


The Healing Song

by 2204



Series: The Healing Song [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Camping, Cutting, Depression, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Healing, Hippie Harry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kid Fic, M/M, Older Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prolonged Exposure Therapy, Recovering Alcoholic, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety, Social Phobia, Soulmates, Therapy, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-06-30 14:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 111,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2204/pseuds/2204
Summary: Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.Or where Louis is a single father of two, suffering from PTSD, and Harry is there providing soulmatey and loving support while he heals the wounds of past abuse.





	1. The Train

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that even though most of the characters share names with real, living people, here they are only actors, each playing their part in this story. This story is in no way meant to reflect the actual lives of those people. 
> 
> The content of this story, however, is something that a lot of people live through every single day. 
> 
> This is a story about healing from domestic violence, emotional abuse, negligence and alcoholism. This is a story about living with posttraumatic stress, depression, social phobia and anxiety. 
> 
> It can be difficult to read at times - it sure was hard to write. But I’ll try to put thorough trigger warnings in the beginning notes of each chapter. 
> 
>  
> 
> I plan on posting one chapter a day, or every couple of days, until all 27 of them are posted. The epilogue might be a bit longer. 
> 
> There’s a playlist to accompany the fic - because playlists are fun and I wanted to make one. Some people like to listen to music while reading. I don’t. But I do like the way music and song lyrics can convey a feeling and enhance a situation (based on every person’s subjective association, of course). 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> River Flows In You - Yiruma  
> Cough Syrup - Young the Giant  
> Deliver Us - In Flames  
> Flowerchild (The Beauty Of Stray) - Takida
> 
>  
> 
> Before we dive into the story-telling part of this, I’d like to properly thank my strong and beautiful beta readers, Bridie and Sabrina. 
> 
> I’m sure it was annoying at times, to listen to me whine about insecurities or ask silly questions about almost everything. But they graciously stayed true to their promises and kept patiently correcting errors, giving feedback and voicing their opinions. 
> 
> Thank you so much! I’m eternally grateful, because I couldn’t have done this without either of you. 
> 
>  
> 
> Here’s my story. Please leave your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> This is for every single domestic violence survivor out there.  
> And for the ones who didn’t make it.
> 
>  

 

Deep in thought and wonder, Louis was going through the events of the past few days in his head. He was currently sitting comfortably on a train to London. What made the situation unusual and had Louis all baffled, was that he was alone. All by himself, without anyone to keep him company and make him feel safe. So strange, that was.

 

Normally Louis wouldn’t willingly set foot on public transportation. Or any kind of crowded or closed off space. Louis suffered from social phobia, among all kinds of other things. He was really afraid of places with a lot of people. And places with only a few people, people he didn’t know. He’s not even comfortable with most people he did know. Places like this - that were void of an escape route when the anxiety levels were higher than manageable - were the worst. Louis didn’t do trains. Or buses. Or planes, elevators or anything where the decision to leave was not his.

 

If you would ask Louis, he wasn’t avoiding these places because of some phobia. No, he’s avoiding them because he simply didn’t like people. Had no desire to talk to them. People came with baggage and way too much unnecessary drama. People talked too much and gave him headaches. So no, Louis wouldn’t normally choose to sit on a crowded train in the middle of the morning commute. If he were to travel - which he preferred not to - he would borrow a car and drive. But here he was, sat next to a tired looking lady, who’s typing away on her laptop, on a train to London, with all kinds of emotions running wild inside of him. Emotions were, by default, difficult to handle. What was so wondrous about this whole situation was the lack of recognizable emotions or the usual thought patterns and carefully constructed avoidance behaviour.

 

Louis was seated in the middle of a carriage packed with people. There was probably thirty or so faces in his line of sight and maybe twenty more sitting behind him. Most likely, there wasn’t any empty seats left on the train. Yet, Louis was not experiencing any sweating, nor was his heart was trying to hammer it’s way out of his chest. There was no shortness of breath. He didn’t even feel the need to fiddle with his phone, trying to look busy.

 

Louis sat with his head leaned back on the headrest, chin held up high and shoulders relaxed as he watched his fellow travelers. When someone’s eyes happened to meet his, he didn’t blush or feel the need to look away immediately. Louis felt relaxed. Content, somehow. He wasn’t even nervous about the fact that he’s going to be on a busy train station in less than thirty minutes.

 

Is this what normal people feel like?

 

 

* * *

 

It’s a funny story, how he ended up here. Alone on an early train, going to an unfamiliar place to meet an unknown man.

 

A few days back, while scrolling through his feeds, Louis saw an advertisement in some Facebook group.

 

_“Are you having trouble in your everyday life?”_

Yes.

_“Would you like to learn an easy way to approach your problems?”_

Yes.

_“Are you ready to change your entire way of thinking?”_

Sure, why the hell not?

_“Contact me for further…”_

 

Louis stopped reading and decisively clicked on the post. He was instantly redirected to what appeared to be a man’s personal Facebook page. He opened a new message and started writing, almost on autopilot.

 

One might think that a clever guy like Louis would be a bit more skeptical about who to contact and what people have to offer. And yes, there are situations that require you to be careful, sometimes you need to let your skeptic self have a voice in order to keep yourself safe.

 

A few years back Louis would have scoffed at an ad like that, as well as at the people responding - or even contemplating a response - to something like that. If he’d even paid enough attention to catch what it was about. Self-helpy, ridiculous, made up methods with a strong hippie vibe was not Louis’ typical approach.

 

Nowadays, however, Louis did notice things that he probably would’ve missed before. He’d learned a long time ago, that the best way for him to manage to live his life with minimal interference from his demons - Anxiety, Depression and Friends - was to pay attention to his gut feeling, his intuition, and to the best of his ability follow the paths it took him on. So once Louis’ eyes landed on this ad, he felt the need to just go for it - whatever the hell _it_ meant.  

 

11 Nov 6:03PM

You:

_Hello. I’m not sure I understand what type of service you provide, but I do know that I’m interested. :) I’m sorry if this sounds weird._

_Louis_

 

  
11 Nov 6:07PM   
Harry Styles:

_Hi. First of all, it does not sound weird. Not at all, so don’t worry about it. :)_

 

_Second, welcome to my world and how I see it. We all have different views on what we call reality and I can assure you, mine is unlike most._

 

_I’m not going to give you additional concepts and ideas of how life should be lived. I only want to help you find your way, all the way to your inner core, where there’s a calm and a strength beyond comprehension, and where you can learn to listen to yourself, your soul._   


_What is required of you is COURAGE and a WILL to create change, either on a personal plane or a collective plane. Or both._

 

_I need to know_

_-If you are willing to meet yourself, even when things get tough?_

_-Why you felt the desire to respond to my ad?_

_-A bit about how your life/situation looks like?_

_-Where you live and if you’d be able to move?_

 

_Lastly, I’m very excited and curious to see where this process might take us._

 

_Namaste._

_-Harry_

 

Oh. Well namaste to you too _,_ Louis thought.

 

This lad’s answer, along with a friend request, was almost instantaneous. He did indeed seem to be the hippie kind. Louis went back to the Facebook page to snoop around for a bit.

 

Harry’s profile picture didn’t reveal much of him. It showed Harry from afar, sitting by a fire in some wooded area, smiling big and looking unfairly serene with his brown hair in a bun on the top of his head. Typical outdoorsy type, Louis decided. There weren’t that many pictures of Harry himself in his albums, most pictures were of flowers, trees, leaves and sunsets. And cats, for some reason.

 

When Louis had had enough of nature photography and was about to resume his response to Harry, he noticed a picture in the bottom right corner of this particular nature album. It was of Harry, sitting cross legged on the ground, with a beat up guitar in his lap. The guitar was decorated with bright flower and rainbow stickers. The light brown leather vest he was wearing didn’t hide anything at all. The many tattoos on his chest and arms were visible, there were nipples fully on display and a glimpse of Harry’s abs could be seen.

 

There was a leather pouch hanging on a string around his neck and a headband (looking a lot like a necklace) on his forehead. Typical flower child. Handsome.

 

If Louis held his breath and stared at the picture for longer than acceptable, no one needed to know.

 

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the next afternoon that Louis had a response ready for Harry.

 

It was the third draft he’d written in Notepad - yes, Notepad. There was no way in hell Louis would write anything directly into the messenger box. The fact _that_ he was writing and how long it took for him to get it right would be clearly visible for the recipient. Not to mention, it would all be sent off if he was to forget to press down the shift-key every time he pressed enter. Can you imagine the horror?

 

Can’t have anyone knowing that Louis needs to read through everything he writes and maybe edit it a few times before sending. Handsome flower child hippies certainly didn’t need to know that.

 

12 Nov 4:20PM

You:

_Hello again._

 

_My life started to change about five years ago. That’s when I, a depressed and overworked alcoholic, had a complete meltdown. I hit rock bottom, crashed so hard due to the stress, the drinking and everything else. Since then I’ve worked really hard to find ways to get the chaos I get to call my life under control. I’ve been healing and building myself up again. Gradually I’ve adjusted most things in my life. What I often find myself missing is the right kind of guidance and support in that process. Something (or someone) to fall back on when I’m unsure or scared. These insecurities get in the way of finding the answers within myself. I think that might have been the reason I contacted you. The curiosity, the chance, the hope that maybe you could provide the support or the tools and strategies I’m looking for._   
_  
I’m not afraid to meet myself, to search within me.That kind of soul searching has become a common occurrence these past few years. Yet I’m terrified for what might come up each time I start looking a bit deeper. Same goes for courage. I have a lot of it. Enough to share with an entire village, but there’s not enough for me to take on life’s challenges with that fearless attitude I wish to have._

_  
_ _That serenity and strength of the soul you speak of, I can feel that sometimes. That tremendous sense of stability is, paradoxically, what currently causes the most confusion and uncertainty. I have felt the underlying strength often enough to know it's always there. I can feel how my habitual thought patterns, behaviors and opinions are separate from that strength. And it is precisely in the handling of such confusion (among other things) I lack support._

 

_I live in Doncaster with my two kids. I’m a writer, mostly doing freelance stuff - which is perfect, since I’m kind of unable to keep a regular job due to recurring depression, anxieties and my nonexistent ability to handle stress. I can not move away from here._

_  
_ _And now I’d like to know more about this process of yours. :)_

 

Louis let out the breath he’d been holding as he finally clicked the send button. He waited a few heartbeats and then furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. When he exposed himself like this, told people even a little bit of his inner thoughts and let a few of his scars show, he went into panic mode shortly after. Always second guessing, feeling stupid about the things said and the way they were phrased, frantically trying to come up with answers to every response that he might get and ways to handle every possible situation that might come up.

 

Louis was just sitting in his desk chair, staring blankly at the screen and thinking about how different he’d expected to feel right about now. Hell, he’d just told a stranger that he’s a recovering alcoholic! Sure, he liked to shock people by telling them he’s an alcoholic and leaving out the bit about recovering. But that’s when he meets people face to face and damage control is easy. Telling someone online this openly was usually something he avoided, since it had a habit of triggering a downward spiral of ‘what-if-they-didn’t-see-the-recovering-part-and-report-me-and-child-protective-services-comes-and-I’ll-never-see-my-kids-again-and-everyone-will-know-just-how-bad-of-a-parent-I-am’.

 

But now- nothing. No panicking. No negative thoughts. No visions of every horrible scenario known to man. Well, known to Louis at least. Louis felt calm.

 

Maybe this Harry was magic?

 

 

* * *

 

12 Nov 8:38PM  
Harry Styles:

_I feel like we should meet so that you get a chance of letting go of your worries and some of the anxiety you’re carrying. I can support you in that process, be a mirror of sorts and guide you to the true version of yourself._

 

_What you describe is pretty common and it’s a really good thing that you’re able to separate your mental activities and the calm within. That’s the key to it all. Everything you can see and observe is not you._

 

_Do you spend any time in nature? Nature is a great place to heal. Sometimes I hold little workshops out in the woods, where the participants learn to live in nature. The goal is to spend 3-5 days in nature without feeling the need to do stuff. Just be._

 

_Would you be able to come to London next week? Maybe on the 18th or 19th?_

 

_Don’t forget that change is inevitable, everything passes. Tomorrow could be the day all problems disappear. Everything comes and goes._

 

_Take care._

_-Harry_

 

It seemed that bewildered was fastly becoming Louis’ default state of mind. With every turn and every new interaction with Harry, Louis was left baffled. Every reaction Louis predicted or expected went missing.

 

Louis had read the response twice, not really believing that Harry hadn’t mentioned anything about… well, anything. All of Louis personal revelations had gone unanswered. And unnoticed? Why hadn’t Harry commented on them? Usually there were millions of follow up questions and comments. Millions.

 

A part of Louis - the part that wanted to label Harry’s behavior as suspicious - thought that maybe the questions were coming later or maybe Harry hadn’t even read his message that thoroughly.

 

But a bigger part of him, the part that had him answering this stupid advertisement in the first place, was pleased at the friendliness and consideration Harry was showing. He wasn’t asking unnecessary questions about clearly sensitive topics. Harry was being respectful and kind. He obviously knew that painful memories were best left alone and allowed to remain in those dark corners of one’s consciousness, until they were shared willingly.

 

This made Louis both calm and giddy at the same time. Maybe this Hippie-Harry person really could help him get through some of the shit he was dealing with. Maybe there was a reason he’d stumbled onto that ad and felt inclined to answer it. There’s definitely a reason why Louis felt so comfortable and at ease with the idea of hopping on the train and going to London on a whim.

 

13 Nov 7:30AM

You:  
_I have recently discovered that I really do enjoy spending time in nature. A lot, actually. Who would have thought? :)_

 

_I believe I’m able to come to London on the 19th. Let me just check train times and such._

 

They had messaged back and forth a bit, settling on a time and place to meet. Louis arriving by train and Harry, having been out of town, also arriving by train approximately at the same time. So they decided to just meet at the station and find some place to sit and have some coffee or tea.

 

 

* * *

 

A crackling sound came from the speakers and Louis was brought back from his thoughts, back to the rattling train. A friendly female voice announced the approach to the train’s final stop. Louis checked his phone and noticed that Harry had sent a message informing him that he was about 15 minutes from arriving.

 

Some nervousness could be felt deep in Louis’ stomach, but other than that, he was really enjoying this freedom from fear he had going on ever since he came in contact with Harry.

 

During the train ride he had been able to take on the unusual task of getting up from his seat and walking all the way to the next carriage to find the toilet. He’d even peed in said toilet. On a train. With people sitting just outside. Screw you, social phobia! Louis was making a mental list of all the things he would tell his psychologist at their next appointment on tuesday. It seemed that everything on this trip was something he usually avoided. Hopefully his lucky streak would last all the way home too.

 

With a huge smile on his face, Louis pocketed his phone and stood to grab his backpack from the luggage rack above his head. He’s doing this then. Fearless, heading into the unknown. Functioning like everybody else. Like a normal person.

 

 

* * *

 

Once Louis was away from the platform and well on his way inside the station, he stopped and looked around. Brown, feathery hair swept across his forehead and sapphire-like eyes calmly taking careful inventory of his surroundings.

 

This was yet another new experience, as seemed to be the trend nowadays, his usual automatic and well rehearsed behaviours and need to flee, surprisingly not kicking in.

 

Instead of going straight to the nearest wall or corner, as far away from any living, breathing thing as possible, Louis was now standing in the middle of the stream of constantly moving people, feeling only calm and curiosity. He stood there for quite a few minutes, turning a little every now and then just to be able to really feel the experience from every angle, the experience of him being able to just stand still, calmly breathing, with hundreds of people milling about.  

 

When Louis was done revelling in the absence of anxiety he sought up a more quiet corner of the main hall. Well, it wasn’t really that quiet, if he didn’t press himself against the wall in an attempt to make himself invisible - and he damn well wouldn’t - but he stepped to the side and reduced the risk of panic when he sent off a message to Harry telling him he was waiting.

 

While Louis was waiting for Harry’s response, he let his mind wander a bit until it focused on his clothing.

 

Was he dressed appropriately? Last night he’d chosen this outfit, aiming for a neutral, tidy but casual look. Now he was beginning to regret his choice. The black skinny jeans and the black button up with rolled up sleeves started to feel uncomfortable. What if it looked like he tried too hard? What if Harry thought he’d went out of his way to dress up nicely? What if he didn’t like it? My god! This wasn’t a date! Why would he even care? Still, he should have worn a t-shirt. A loose t-shirt that would hide away his enormous pouch of a stomach.

 

A beeping sound from Louis pocket indicated a text message.

 

**_I’m standing at the main entrance. I’ll be the one with the green backpack._ **

 

_Okay. I don’t know where I am. Just stay put, I’ll find my way._

 

 

* * *

 

It took about ten minutes of searching for some kind of map of the place, or at least signs, to tell Louis which way he should go, turning here and there and going up and down the escalators until he came to what looked like a large entrance.

 

Louis spotted Harry almost immediately. He was leaning down towards a shorter, nice looking girl, hugging her. Louis felt a very distinctive sting of jealousy. What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t a date, stupid.

 

And yes, Louis was definitely overdressed. Damn it. Casual! A button up is not casual. Here Harry was dressed like he just came from the woods - which he probably did - with his hiking boots, dark green trousers and black fleece jacket and curls sticking out under his beanie. All his Fjallraven hiking gear was just screaming “outdoorsy nature person”. Among all the people dressed for work in neat looking suits and pencil skirts, Harry really stood out.

 

Louis waited until the girl left before he stepped forward and cleared his throat and voiced a greeting. Harry turned to face Louis. He smiled big and held his hand out for Louis to take and all Louis could do was stare dumbly into those bright green eyes.

 

He must be magical.   

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you found any errors or weirdness, please let me know. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts. :)


	2. The Cafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:**  
>  Descriptions of mental health issues and coping mechanisms.
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Demons - Imagine Dragons  
> Amaranth - Nightwish  
> Monster - Skillet  
> Cirice - Ghost
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  
> 
> The spoon theory analogy by Christine Miserando is a real thing - look it up. 
> 
> Also, please make sure to stay safe if you're meeting with strangers.
> 
>  

 

Immediately upon the initial greeting, Harry had launched himself into an animated conversation. Well, since Louis’ brain had emptied itself of any kind of content due to the presence of this stunning woodland fairy, it was more of a monologue of Harry’s than a conversation between the two of them. Harry’s long arms were flailing around when he was explaining something and steering them into a cafe he knew of.

 

They were standing in line, waiting for their turn whilst Harry was chatting away about his morning and his train ride. The cafe bar was in the middle of the room, like an island made of darkly painted wooden countertops and glass displays, in amongst the sea of assorted tables and chairs. The back of said island rose a bit higher up, showing off all the machines and coffee makers or whatever the things were called these days. The glass displays by the counter in front contained delicious looking sandwiches and pastries. In the middle of all this was a lone barista, milling around and serving her customers with a professional smile.

 

It was a small but busy cafe - in other words, not at all within Louis comfort zone. The discomfort in his chest that had been absent all morning, stirred a bit. It wasn’t enough to warrant any worry about having to flee the scene - the sensation was still quiet and hollow - but it was enough to let Louis know that he hadn’t miraculously been healed in the past few days he’d been in contact with Harry.

 

The man was not emitting any magical healing powers then.

 

The anxiety was there, it was awake. It was waiting and collecting every bit of information it could, until it was time to strike and release the bomb that was a full blown anxiety attack.

 

Louis took a few deep breaths in order to create calmness in his body and mind. No, he didn’t at all consider himself being in control of his phobia or anxieties, but he’d been dealing with this long enough to know that a few breathing exercises - as silly as it sounded - did go a long way. He still got surprise visits, as in he did not always notice the signs and see the anxiety attack coming, but when he did notice the early signs of panic, he knew that regular deep breaths and mindful relaxation of his body could postpone the worst part for quite a long time.

 

They were next in line when Louis noticed Harry looking at him expectantly. So maybe Harry had asked a question while Louis was staring at the sandwiches inside the glass case and breathing his demons away.

 

“Sorry, I was getting my demons in order, did you say something?” Louis asked, a little surprised by the honesty pouring out of his mouth.

 

“I was asking if you prefer coffee or tea.” Harry said with an understanding smile and a tone and posture that indicated that he might order for Louis.

 

“Yes, I’ll have a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich, please.” Louis directed his answer to the barista, placing his order while he dug out his card, making it very clear that he was going to pay for his serving himself. This was not a date. This was business. Or a compassionate man helping another, whatever this was, it certainly wasn't a date.

 

They made their way to one of the few available tables in the cafe. The table was high enough for someone to stand by it, with high wooden bar stools that left Louis swinging his feet in the air.

 

“Don’t even start with the short person jokes.” Louis warned sternly with his index finger pointing aggressively at Harry when he noticed him smiling at his swaying legs.  

 

Once they were settled and sat comfortably with their drinks and sandwiches on the table and coats hanging off the backs of their chairs, Louis remembered that he had promised his sister he would at least try to look after himself. 

 

According to her, one’s gut feeling saying that there’s no need to worry about the situation was not enough to keep one safe. She made him give her Harry’s name and contact information and then she had stalked Harry on Facebook to make sure she remembered his appearance.  _ ‘In case you get murdered, Louis,’ _ she had answered when Louis protested, adding  _ ‘someone has to tell the police AND let everyone know that you were stupid and trusted some random bloke on the internet’ _ . 

 

Louis was not as irresponsible as his sister made him out to be. He had kids to take care of. He was about to turn 36, that made him middle aged for crying out loud.

 

While giggling a bit on the inside, Louis brought forth the most suspicious glare he could muster and directed it towards Harry asking if he was a murderer or a rapist. Harry let out a surprised laugh at that and assured Louis that he was not, he did not believe in forcing anyone to do anything against their will, nor did he believe that there would ever be a situation where violence was justified. He was a pacifist all the way through and then some.

 

Louis was glad Harry detected his playfulness and had reacted accordingly. Though it was a serious matter, and both the question and answer had some amount of seriousness in them, Harry’s reaction could easily have been one of offence and hurt instead of playful seriousness.

 

“The other day you said that your view on the world is different from everyone else’s. How?” Louis decided to bring up the reasons they were meeting in the first place and asked the question he’d been waiting to ask. The one Harry didn’t respond to when he asked it the first time.

 

“Oh,” Harry sighed, seemingly a bit reluctant to tell Louis the answer. “For starters, my opinion is that neither humans nor human behaviour nowadays are aligned with the planet we live on. People are driven by underlying fears. Most of us aren’t even aware of all the things we’re afraid of, or all the fears that control us and rule our actions. We’re afraid of being alone, being abandoned, being inadequate, not having enough and so on.”

 

“We are living separate from each other and from ourselves. Even within families, there is no real connection.” Harry said before pausing to take a sip of his tea and a bite of his cucumber sandwich.

 

Louis thought about his own family and the connection there. He knew what Harry meant, he had felt that lack of connection in many different circumstances. He told Harry as much and added “But I think it’s different with my kids than it is with my original family and extended family. At least I hope so. I’d like to think that all the shit I’ve been through - we’ve been through - has given me enough insight to make sure that there’s plenty of love, respect and connectivity flowing in our home.”

 

Harry nodded his acknowledgement and continued “We are taught to behave according to a predefined template. We’re being conditioned into these emotionless robots, not allowed to feel the wrong things. Barely allowed to feel the right things. We strive for freedom or safety and security through money, possessions and consumption.”

 

Louis listened attentively to Harry’s deep drawl and nodded along while he was speaking. It was clear that Harry was passionate about this topic, about what he thought made people sick and unhappy in today’s society. But there was still a bit of a hesitation to his speech, like it was a secret meant to be kept.

 

“Money is in control of everything in today’s society; norms, culture, opinions, everything. Economic growth is equivalent to God and it happens at the expense of people, the planet and all life on it. Who has made it this way? Who does it benefit? Do we even know that? It’s like we’re all in an invisible prison that no one knows exists.” Harry paused again and lifted his eyes from where they were intentively focused on his thumb busying itself with picking under his fingernails. He looked a little unsure.  

 

Louis had his mouth full of cheese sandwich so he just nodded to signal Harry to go on.

 

“I think people today are way too busy with trying to keep their lives together to even be able to look up and get a little perspective. People barely breathe, as it is. Well, that’s a really short version of how I see the world.” Harry finished.   
  
And boy could Louis relate to that last part. He had first hand knowledge of how much energy it took to keep oneself from drowning in the waves of life’s demands. The past few years had been difficult on a whole different level than he had ever experienced before. There was no room for any debauchery at all, in any areas of his life.

 

Every ounce of energy went to getting himself out of bed to make sure his kids ate breakfast and went to school, and that there was something to eat when they got home from school or  practice. On most good days Louis did a little work, be it writing an article for some blog or a short story he could sell to some magazine or promoting a couple of his own blog posts so there would be ad revenue to collect.

 

On bad days there was really not much to do but handle the demons. Hopefully there had been enough good days - enough energy on Louis’ good days would probably be a more accurate way of putting it - and he’d been able to fill the freezer with pre-cooked meals for the kids to heat up when the bad days came. That way the stress of having to cook in order to feed the kids would be minimized and that time could be spent resting.

 

There were different kind of bad days, of course. Being diagnosed with general anxiety disorder, social phobia, fatigue syndrome and bipolar disorder gave a bit of variety to what constituted a bad day. (Louis did not believe that bipolar part on his list of things wrong with him, but the doctors sure did a good job letting him know that de did  _ not _ fit the norm for how a person should function. No, he wasn’t bitter about that. Not at all.)

 

Sometimes depression was the main issue of the week, sometimes the week was one where Louis had to put up all his walls in order to be able to socialize. Socializing in Louis’ world meant going to meetings at school, doctors appointments, therapy, grocery store and other necessary places like that, none of the fun things like meeting friends or anything like that.

Sometimes sudden anxiety attacks did the damage. Regardless of what caused the bad days, Louis would be entering zombie mode, completely drained of energy, mostly lying in bed, dragging himself up and around the flat only to make sure his kids were alive and maybe try to look a little alive for them.

 

There was a time when Louis labeled everything that wasn’t harmony as bad. But now he knew better. He learnt a long time ago that there was no resisting the demons. He got away with the least amount of scratches if he just accepted a bad day without fighting against it. And before the misunderstandings arise, let it be said that Louis not resisting the demons doesn’t in any way mean he has given up. He hasn’t. He is still doing everything in his power to defeat his demons. His weapon of choice is standing back, watching and learning from the enemy.

 

Louis did have perspective. He once had a regular job. He knew how it was to go from financially, emotionally, physically and socially stable, functioning and normal - as stable and normal as one could be considered when doing a four person job, drinking every day and not letting themselves feel anything at all - to, well, to this! To being sick, not functioning very well and not being able to do things he had done his entire life. Not having any money, not having any energy and always fearing anxiety attacks and people. To being reduced to a pile of diagnoses, viewed as faulty by the world. 

 

He always had to make thrice the effort it would normally take, just to prove his worth to everyone. Prove his worth to himself, his children, his parents and siblings. He also had to prove his worth to his friends and acquaintances, and to his doctor and psychologist and all the other people involved with his rehabilitation, to society. Everyone.

 

So yeah, Louis knew what Harry was talking about.

 

“I understand what you mean. It sounds like what my outlook on life is being moulded into. What you said really resonates with me.” Louis said and Harry’s responding smile was glorious, his eyes twinkling and dimples popping. 

 

Louis might have started planning their future right on the spot. Fuck. Still not a date!

 

“I think it often takes a harsh wake up call for people to start questioning their habits and values, to start changing them. At least that was the case for me. And a lot of others, I’ve noticed.” Louis continued.

 

“You mentioned that your life changed five years ago, I assume that’s when your ‘wake up call’ happened,” Harry said and Louis nodded, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe this was the time for all the intrusive questions about alcoholism and bad parenting.

 

“I’m also assuming this is a highly sensitive subject, so I won’t ask you to speak of it while in public. But would you tell a bit about the differences in your life now versus then?” Harry asked.

 

Louis was trying to decide if he should be grateful and relieved or ask what the hell was wrong with Harry. Where was the nosy, gloating and judging version of him? What had he done to the traits that most people showed upon first sight of another human? Was Harry an alien?

 

“I admire your open minded attitude. I haven’t met a lot of people that have been understanding instead of trying to dig up my deepest, darkest secrets straight off the bat.” Louis stated, adding “I’m not sure you’re even human” with a playful smile.  

 

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched with a hint of a smile. “Throughout my life I have been judged and ridiculed for many different things. I know the pain it causes. I also know the importance of not having your thoughts, feelings and experiences invalidated. Information should always be given freely.” he explained.   

 

“I agree.” Louis smiled. “Do you know of the spoon theory?”

 

“No, I don’t think I’ve heard of it.” Harry replied with his eyebrows creased thoughtfully.

 

“Some lady came up with this analogy to describe how difficult it is to live with chronic illness. I think it was originally meant to show how constant pain affects someone’s energy levels. But I think it’s applicable to us with mental health issues too.” Louis explains, leaning forward putting his elbows on the table.

 

“So basically, the spoon theory is that your energy is measured in spoons. Each day you get a certain amount of spoons, let’s say that 15 spoons is standard for an adult. So after a good night’s sleep, each morning one adult person gets 15 spoons to use throughout the day. Every time you do something that requires effort you have to put spoons away. For a healthy person these 15 spoons would last the entire day, there might even be spoons left, since not all activities are energy-consuming enough to claim a whole spoon.” Louis continues and Harry listens attentively.

 

“For someone with chronic pain, or any illness or disability really, it’s a different story. Getting out of bed might take a spoon, sometimes two or three. Putting on clothes requires another. Showering, brushing teeth, making and eating food are all activities that take up a lot of spoons. Chances are that these 15 spoons won’t even last until lunch. And that’s the good days we’re talking about. How is someone supposed to live like that?”

 

“That’s what it’s like for me a lot of the time. I lose my spoons at a terrifying rate.” Louis said as he brought his now empty tea cup up to his lips and took a sip of nothing.

 

“Can you collect the spoons and save for the days to come?” Harry asked.  

 

Louis chuckled at the question. “No, you can’t stock up on spoons. It starts at 15 or less spoons every day. I have, however, learnt to focus my energy in a way that I can borrow spoons from the next day or two, but that means those days will have fewer spoons.”

 

Harry looked confused for a moment before asking “But how can there be less than 15 spoons?”

 

“A difficult night.” Louis replied “Insomnia, pain, anxiety... anything that prevents you from a good night’s sleep reduces the amount of spoons you start the day with.”

 

“Oh,” Harry sighed before asking carefully “and how many spoons have you used today?”

 

Harry looked genuinely worried and Louis wanted to give him a consoling hug. And he would have, had they known each other better. Or if this would have been a more allowing setting.

 

Instead Louis smiled and decided to comfort Harry with words. “Only a few. Surprisingly few, actually.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry’s smile perked up.

 

“Yeah. I’m not even up to five yet. Which is really weird, since I’ve been doing things all morning that my social phobia normally would create massive anxiety attacks about. I’m sitting here, am I not?” Louis grinned. “This is why I suspect you’re either an alien or some kind of magical creature with healing powers.”

 

Harry let out a melodic laugh. “We’re all magical, you know. And it is very brave for someone with social anxiety to sit in a crowded place with their back to the room.” Harry pointed out.

 

“I know!” Louis proclaimed “I can barely believe it myself. I always, always sit with my back against the wall, so I have view of the room, but today I didn’t even realise it at first. Today everything seems doable. This is definitely going on the list of things I’m telling my psychologist on tuesday.”

 

“I rode a train, and a bus to get to the train,” Louis started counting on his fingers. Eyes wide and excitement pouring into his voice. “I peed while I was on said train.” Louis cheeks turned pink at that and he quickly glanced up at an amused Harry, but he continued to recite his list. “I stood in a crowd of hundreds of people. I met with you, despite the fact that I had no idea if you were a murderer or a rapist…”

 

“Each of those things are quite big accomplishments.” Harry added with a little chuckle.

 

“Yeah. Exactly.” Louis agreed. “And together they’re monumental, if you think about it. To answer your question, the differences lie in there. In the constant monitoring of available spoons. The predicting and guessing of how much recovery time is needed for each task I allow or force myself to explore. The exhaustion. The fear. I can’t say any of it didn’t exist before, but I wasn’t aware of any of it.” Louis paused and shook his head. “I’m not brave enough to start crawling down that road now.”

 

Everything was so complicated that Louis always felt the need to start the story from the beginning and include each and every little detail. It was important for Louis to minimize the risk of misunderstandings, so he made sure that the person listening to his story - the times he chose to tell it - was fully aware of every specific variable. 

 

Louis had baggage. There were reasons for his flaws. And his strengths.

 

“This story has no short version, so we’ll be here all week if I start telling it.” Louis finished with a sad smile.

 

Harry was understanding of course, and offered to get their tea cups refilled while Louis cleared his head.

 

Once Harry returned with two brightly colored cups filled with scorching hot tea, they continued talking. Conversation flowed easily and there seemed to be a deeper level of trust between the two. 

 

Harry talked openly about how he’d always found a safe space in nature, fleeing out to the woods when things got difficult at home, growing up with a mother with mental health issues. Louis shared a few of his worries about parenting and gave Harry insight into the guilt he was always carrying around. They also talked about everyday things, work related stuff and all kinds of ordinary “get to know each other”-topics. 

 

Maybe Harry thought of this as a date?    

 

Occasionally Louis zoned out and instead of listening to Harry’s words, he let his voice become soothing background music while his icy blue eyes memorised Harry’s appearance. 

 

Trying not to be obvious, Louis mostly restricted himself to admiring Harry’s tanned and attractively muscular arms with sharply visible veins and beautiful dark tattoos. Harry was wearing a hair tie around his right wrist and a few bracelets made of wooden beads on his left one. Louis found himself wondering how Harry would look like putting his hair up in a bun. Did he tilt his head backwards and shake his chocolate colored curls before gathering them into a bun?

 

Harry was so sweet and very much in tune with Louis. All the ideas and opinions he voiced, Louis agreed upon. All Louis spoke of, Harry understood. Louis couldn’t remember ever being this comfortable with someone. Well, with the exception of his kids. That didn’t count though, Louis had known them their entire lives.

 

* * *

 

A bit after lunch hour Louis started to get restless. He was fidgeting in his chair, looking around a lot more than earlier. A few times he’d looked away from Harry’s captivating form and noticed that the people sitting by the tables beside theirs were not the same that sat there before. This was a bit unnerving. 

 

Here Louis was sitting in public with no control at all about what was happening around him. His attempts to find peace and calm failed and the fight or flight instinct was screaming and demanding flight.

 

Harry noticed Louis restlessness and asked about it.  

 

“Yeah, I’m starting to get a bit uncomfortable and restless.” Louis answered honestly. “It seems my quota of normalcy is filled for now. I might have overdone it a bit and exposed myself to the world for too long.”

 

It was still about an hour and a half until Louis had to be on the train home, but he was trying to come up with ways to end his non-date with Harry and hide somewhere until he could be seated on the train.

 

“What if you had something to anchor you?” Harry asked urgently. “What if… what if you used me?”

 

Louis could feel how stupid he looked when he jerked his head up, trying to understand what Harry meant.

 

“I mean, to ground yourself. I told you I would support and guide you. This is me offering support. I could be like- like a pillar for you to cling to.” Harry stated carefully.

 

“Safety.” He added quietly.

 

Louis took a few deep breaths, straightened his back and placed his hands on both sides of his thighs to take a firm grip on the seat.

 

“Okay. How are we going to do this?”

 

“Look into my eyes. Can you find a calm place in me?” Harry asked, aiming his steady gaze at Louis.

 

For a short second, all of Louis’ demons panicked and ran around aimlessly. Look into those gorgeous and very intimidating eyes? Louis could barely look into his own eyes in the mirror, but he decided to brave through this. He brushed his fringe out of his eyes and fixed his gaze on Harry’s.

 

In was an interesting experience, staring into a pair of eyes for a long time. Things happened. The first ten or so minutes helped Louis calm down. None of the raving demons stood a chance against the calmness that could be found in Harry’s deep, green eyes. Unknowingly, Louis’ breath matched Harry’s while he was lost in the depths of foresty green.

 

Louis was still aware of the blurry world existing, whirling around him and Harry where they were sat in this busy cafe. It was like the eye of the storm. People were swooshing by, different sounds were heard but only morphed into a buzzing noise. The anxiety and the uncontrolled emotions were no longer at large inside Louis’ chest, but had been removed from the bubble as well. The emotions were still there, whirling around them with the rest of existence, but they couldn’t disturb the calm that enveloped Louis. All that mattered was Harry’s beautiful, beautiful eyes.

 

The calm of their bubble was as scary as it was intriguing. It was terrifying to be visible like this. To be seen. Louis felt like every little nook of his inner being became exposed. All the parts of him that Louis wanted to keep for himself were on display. It felt like everything was visible for everyone to see, even though only one pair of eyes were watching. 

 

Louis wasn’t afraid of the eyes watching. He was afraid of the things that could be seen.

 

Amongst the long string of calming words Harry was saying, Louis heard “Right now, you might be more seen than ever before.” And it was true. Harry probably could see everything, every little thing Louis had worked so hard to keep from the world, things he had promised never to let anyone see.

 

Finally, they were snatched out of their private bubble by a phone ringing. Louis’ phone was laid on the table and the alarm, indicating time for Louis to start making his way back to the train, had gone off. Louis watched Harry as he pressed the dismiss button like he owned the phone. Or like they were close friends.

 

_ Or boyfriends _ . Louis mind helpfully added.

 

He felt oddly satisfied by Harry’s disregard of ownership of the phone. In a way, Harry had shown Louis closeness and intimacy with this small action of shutting off the alarm.

 

* * *

 

Once they had all their stuff together and the cups and saucers had been carried away. Louis stood awkwardly next to Harry, not knowing what to do or say. Harry seemed to sense this and asked if Louis was happy with their meeting.

 

“I am, I am.” Louis said. “It feels- I’m- Yeah, what I’m trying to say is thank you for understanding.”

 

“You didn’t try to modify me in any way. You didn’t give me any tools to alter my behavior with and you weren’t making me change how I feel. It was nice not having everything wrong with me pushed in my face. Thank you.”

 

“Any time.” Harry and his dimples answered, “My life became so much better once I stopped believing there was something wrong with me. I’m trying to show you the same thing. There’s nothing wrong with you.” 

 

He drew Louis in for a long, tight hug.

 

This was no ordinary hug. It was an exchange of respect, of gratitude and of humanity. There was recognition and compassion flowing between the two. This was an end and a start.

 

“I really want to meet you again.” Harry said as he let go of Louis and took a couple of steps back. “It seems to me like you’re an amazing person with a beautiful soul.”

 

“I really believe I can help you move past the hurt and the scars life has given you. If you would allow me, I mean.” Harry was rambling. “I’m planning on moving up north in a few months. I haven’t decided if I’m going back to my home town or some place else. We could meet up regularly and I could show you how I’ve-“

 

“I’d like that, Harry.” Louis interrupted, an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his stomach.

 

Louis had never known how to behave in social situations, not like others do. They all seemed to have read the handbook Louis never knew existed. Goodbyes was one of the more uncomfortable situations he usually wanted to get over with as soon as possible. That, paired with the disbelief that Harry would want to see him again, was adding to the anxiety that had accumulated during the day.

 

Not knowing what to do or how to behave, Louis just flashed a smile, turned around and made his way out of the cafe and set off to find his train home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Leave a comment! :)
> 
> New chapter tomorrow.


	3. The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:**  
>  Louis is depressed.  
> Descriptions of neglect, growing up with alcoholic parents, emotional abuse. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day  
> Jekyll and Hyde - Five Finger Death Punch  
> Hero - Skillet  
> Those Nights - Skillet
> 
>  
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

 

 

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old. 

 

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

 

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

 

He was running on fumes, having started his days with half the amount of spoons he usually had for the past week or so. The life was sucked out of him, like depression usually does. Louis was lethargic and sad. He felt lonely and unaccomplished. Worthless. He wasn’t contributing to society at all. Ever.

 

His mind was being so helpful in this, accelerating the downward spiral by reminding him of every single time he’d failed or hadn’t met given requirements. And of every time he had naively thought he would accomplish something, just to be pushed down by someone asking him who the fuck he thought he was.

 

Louis was being reminded of every time his actions had hurt someone and every time he’d been accused of being the cause of someone’s pain.

 

He was thinking of how much he didn’t fit in with the norm. He never went to university, and he had skipped a lot of the steps young adults normally took in life. That really bothered him, the feeling that he never managed to do anything right.

 

His thoughts reminded him of how he’d let a decade of his life go to hell, by being too weak and letting outside forces destroy him. If he really thought about it, he had let two decades of his life go to hell. And if Louis was being honest, his whole life had been hell, but the first decade was one where he really didn’t have a say in it.

 

* * *

 

Louis had been crying a lot this particular friday. Apparently it was necessary to feel. Or so his psychologist kept telling him. Feel things. Stay in the emotion. Let it run it’s course. Try to understand where it came from and why. 

 

For months now Louis had left each therapy session with the difficult task of practising to recognise emotions, feel them and preferably tell someone about them.

 

What a load of crap. Louis did not show feeling. He did not feel emotion. Long ago he had trained himself how to feel as little as possible.

 

Growing up in an environment with substance abuse does things to you. You learn to survive by shutting off parts of yourself. Louis had learnt very early on that it wasn’t safe to show feelings. If he did show his feelings - positive or negative - he was ridiculed for it, either by his alcoholic parents or someone else. Even the times it wasn’t mocking per say, there were remarks and a disparaging kind of   _ ‘Oh, look at him being so’ _ -comments about the feelings someone saw him have. Often these comments were voiced when Louis was feeling happy, excited, proud or hopeful. That made him very uncomfortable and as a result even positive emotions were a negative experience.

 

Other times he was forced to declare his gratitude and love for his parents against his will. Forced to acknowledge their proclamations of how lucky their children were to be brought up in such a loving and safe home. Louis sometimes wondered if these moments, with the long-winded sermons of the so called “loving environment”, were done in an attempt to brainwash him or if his parents needed to convince themselves. Like a summoning spell or something; if said enough times, it would become true.

 

There were times when he was pushed to take sides in his parents arguments, and then having shame and guilt thrown at him once he did as told. There were also the times when his parents were fighting and he - the eldest of four - had to comfort his frightened siblings and then worry about if he did a good enough job at it. 

 

And if that wasn’t enough to motivate a complete shutdown, the siblings were sometimes left alone at night and Louis would carry so much fear in his little seven/eight year old body that he had to cut some of that extra weight. He couldn’t bare all that, so he shut off. All emotions - off!

 

Fear remained, of course. It merged with his body. Fear became Louis’ normal and he developed habits that to this day are making their mark in his life. Louis knows now - some decades later, after years of therapy and soul searching - that quite a few of his behaviour patterns in adulthood were created in that alcohol infested flat that was his childhood home.

 

Louis’ need to be in control, for instance, probably stems from those nights when his parents were out drinking and Louis would walk through the dark flat - scared shitless - making sure he and his siblings were safe.

 

He’d check that the front door was locked and he’d look through the peephole to make sure no one was standing there planning a burglary. He’d make sure that all the windows were closed and the stove was shut off. He’d check that the phone was working by lifting the receiver and making sure the signal was heard properly. Then he would find the phone book and put it next to the phone, in case he would need it later. Before going back to bed he would run through the emergency number a few times in his head, to make sure he still knew it.

 

Not that he ever would fall asleep on a night like that. He would lie awake in his bed with his night light on, listening for any unexpected noises. Every 30 minutes, give or take, he would get up to check on his siblings or the clock on the kitchen wall, to try to estimate how much longer they needed to be alone.

 

On those nights Louis fell asleep once his parents would stagger home, drunk out of their minds. The arguing that inevitably followed, was then a comfort instead of a source of fear and sleeplessness.

 

Plenty of unhealthy seeds were planted in Louis’ childhood. Plenty more were planted in his teenage years and then he would just spend the entirety of his early adulthood reaping the crops of self-destruction.

 

* * *

 

Apart from fear, there were mainly two emotions Louis was certain of. He knew them, knew how they felt. One was the only feeling he’d ever been allowed, one that was thoroughly imprinted in him: shame. The other was the incredible, wonderful feeling of pride his children brought out in him, so much pride. Pride for his kids, shame for himself. Everything else was banned long ago.  

 

Sometimes - the present being one of whose times - Louis wondered if he’d ever felt love. If he even knew how love felt. How could he tell he loved his kids if he didn’t know how it felt. Yes, logically he knew he loved them. Logically he knew he experienced all kinds of different states of emotion. Him feeling things was mostly him intellectually deciding what the proper emotion for any given moment was, rather than actually feeling it.   

 

So no, Louis did not feel things. Except now, when he was training himself to feel again. Hence the wandering around his flat, eyes red and swollen from crying and exhaustion, patting a stuffed elephant’s back and humming soothingly.

 

Speaking of kids. Louis had just made it to his bedroom in the back of their three bedroom flat, when he heard the front door close with a bang and a greeting shouted out to the cosmos.

 

Louis made his way to the entrance and was met with a winded Jonathan, having just climbed three flights of stairs.

 

Louis’ firstborn, sixteen year old Jonathan, was a tall boy with dark blue eyes and his brown hair in a fringe, one similar to Louis’ own. He was witty and humorous, a heavy metal fan who alternated between dressing in band tees with ripped black jeans and Adidas sportswear. He was a sporty kid, floorball being his main interest.

 

Jonathan was a bit careful. Outside of practice he preferred to spend time alone - mostly by his computer - rather than being out with friends or even inviting them home.  _ “I’ve barely known them for six months, dad! How can you even think about us hanging out outside of school? It’s too early!” _ Jon had yelled when Louis suggested inviting some of his classmates to come over, when the first semester of secondary school had ended.

 

Shyness was a label often put on the introvert Jonathan and his self esteem issues.The same label Louis had been assigned as a kid. He could now see that there were very clear reasons for his son’s behaviour. Not all were innate traits, he knew that. The sharp sting of guilt in his heart knew that too.

 

“Hi, Jon. Did I know you were coming home?” Louis asked cautiously as he accepted a hug from the boy in greeting.

 

Sometimes he forgot things, like his train of thoughts or words in a middle of a sentence, what day it was, when things happened or were supposed to happen - a symptom of this fatigue syndrome of his. But Louis was pretty sure that just this morning he had sent both kids off to school with extra hugs and kisses, since they were going to spend a week at their papa’s.  

 

“No, I’m going to papa’s, I’m just picking up my trainers. We have a game,” the boy said while clearly looking around for his shoes among the rest of the households’ shoes, a careless collection that usually piled up in the general area of the shoe rack.

 

“A game? When?” Louis was surprised. Once again he hadn’t known anything of a floorball game happening this weekend.

 

When the kids were younger, Joseph - the kids’ other parent - had a habit of keeping Louis out of the loop, not telling him about games or school recitals. Louis was then left dealing with a devastated child who was upset out of their mind because their dad hadn’t come.

 

Louis had his suspicions that Joseph did this to paint the picture of Louis as an unfit parent for everyone to see. A terrible parent who couldn’t even bother to come see their kid perform or play.

 

Both kids had had a couple of instances, each of rage and disappointment of their dad not being there for them, for Louis to learn and make sure that information from school was emailed directly to him.  

 

Nowadays it was the kids who attempted to protect Louis from the exhaustion accompanying the effort of spending time in a public, crowded place or the guilt that would come when he couldn’t, by not telling him about games and things he would try to attend.  

 

“Tomorrow afternoon.” Jonathan answered conversationally. “But it’s not a home game, so I didn’t think you wanted to come.”

 

Immediately Louis went into protective parent mode, his own sad shit not important any more. 

 

“Jon...” he sighed sadly “You  _ know _ it’s not a matter of wanting. I always _ want _ to come watch you play,” Louis emphasized.

 

At the slightest sign of his kids feeling neglected Louis made sure to give them extra validation and really acknowledge their feelings. He knew what neglect felt like, both sides of it. Now that he had a choice, he was not about to subject his children to it.

 

Floorball practice had always been a different story than school related things, when it came to Louis being able to take part. School activities that involved the parents were always about just sitting in the audience. All parents were equally unaware of the event they were attending. At most, Louis’ anxiety levels rose to medium.

 

Floorball meant being an active part of it. It meant attending practice, driving kids (your own and other’s) to away games, baking, selling shit at home games, doing the administrative duties of keeping score during games, selling more shit at marketplaces and all kinds of other activities.

 

Louis couldn’t do much of it. He did try to stay and watch Jonathan practice a lot of times. That resulted in not only Louis’ anxiety shooting through the roof, and he’d be bedridden for a week afterwards, but he also became very aware of how much of an outsider he was in that environment. The other parents were all friends with each other, including Joseph and his new wife - no doubt the two of them talking shit about Louis and his absence in everything floorball. So Louis had to limit his involvement to dropping off and picking up Jonathan from practice.

 

Louis felt like shit because of his limitations, like he betrayed Jonathan. But once the boy was old enough to understand the concept of mental illnesses and disabilities, Louis had told him how it was. They had made a deal that Louis would attend all the home games, in addition to baking and donating as much as he could to those marketplace occasions.

 

“I know, dad, I didn’t mean it like that.” Jonathan said, tilting his head to the side as his expression changed from apologetic to looking at Louis like he had two heads, “What are you doing?”

 

“Nothing really. Just carrying Will around and thinking about stuff.” Louis answered nonchalantly, like this was a common occurrence. 

 

It kind of was. And yes, the elephant had a name.

 

Jonathan just shook his head and went to find his training gear. Meanwhile Louis sauntered off towards the kitchen, and resumed thinking about the sad shit that was preoccupying his mind earlier.

 

* * *

 

Louis stood by the kitchen window, looking out, bouncing the elephant in his arms and talking a bit to himself when Jonathan announced he was leaving again. He wanted a hug, so Louis walked back into the hallway.

 

“Dad, could you promise me that you’ll get a boyfriend when we move out?” Jon asked with a seriousness Louis couldn’t tell was real or sarcastically imitated.

 

Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Do you mean I have to wait until you’re all moved out before I can get a boyfriend?”

 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to be lonely once we’re no longer living here. A boyfriend solves that part.”

 

The corner of Louis’ mouth twitched in amusement and he was a bit stunned by the thoughtfulness. Couldn’t do nothing but admire the beautiful young human that was his son.

 

“Besides, we all know how you get when left alone for too long. Talking to stuffed animals, probably plotting to take over the world or something. You’re like a crazy cat lady, but with stuffed elephants.” he joked in the usual Jonathan kind of way.

 

Louis laughed and hugged him tight, the elephant squished in between them. “I love you so much, beautiful little crazy one. Now get out of here. Tell your sister I love her too.”

 

Louis’ daughter, twelve year old Rose, was an opinionated girl. With her long blonde hair and round blue eyes, she was brave and way too mature for her age. She too was already taller than Louis. Damn kids. Who gave them permission to outgrow their dad this early in life?  

 

Rose was clear on her values and was not afraid to express her point of view when needed. Often times when not needed, too. Despite her very young age, she was openly pansexual, out and proud with her girlfriend and active in the school’s LGBT youth group. Her eyes glimmered with pride every time she talked about how she felt that by not hiding away parts of herself, she could give courage to others to be true to themselves. Or that she helped someone let go of their homophobic views by bravely explaining and informing.

 

Despite her opinionated and self-assured appearance, Rose was a very sensitive being. She had been deeply hurt and bullied by her classmates when she was younger. It was so bad that she had to change schools. That stuck with her, and she developed a fear of being left alone, without any friends at all.

 

She felt emotion deep enough for all of them. She felt everything and when she did, everyone else knew exactly what she felt. Doors were often slammed, words were shouted and heartbreaking tears were shed.

 

Louis thought they probably shouldn’t have named her Wild Rose. Perhaps it was the name that made her so- you know,  _ not _ docile. 

 

(Yes, according to name sites Wild is a male name. But you know what, fuck gender roles and all other predetermined gender classifications. They wanted to name her Wild, so they did. Louis is kind of regretting it sometimes though, but only because he’s convinced that it was the name that gave her all these traits Louis knew nothing about.)

 

Louis was so, so proud of his children. 

 

Nowadays he considered himself a good parent - the way he hadn’t always been. When it became so obvious that his kids were kind, wise human beings, his heart swelled and he had difficulties keeping the tears from falling. 

 

No matter how often he saw all these beautiful traits of character in his children, he never got used to them. Always in awe of how their minds worked, how compassionate and humane their actions often were. He’d had a part in that, in those kids being so utterly wonderful, and he was forever grateful for getting to experience it.

 

Maybe Jonathan was right, Louis shouldn’t be alone. With that thought, he tossed the elephant on the sofa and picked up his phone from where it was lying on the beat up coffee table - that Louis had built himself, mind you. 

 

He opened his text conversations and scrolled down until he found the one he was looking for.

 

_ Can Steve come out and play? _

 

The phone lit up with the name Steve Aoki just a few boring minutes later. Patience and waiting was not one of Louis’ strengths.

 

**_What’s up?_ **

 

_ I’m sad and I don’t want to be alone tonight. _

 

* * *

 

An hour and a half later Louis was lounging on his sofa with Steve. 

 

Steve was the best. Always showing up when Louis needed him, his long black hair swishing around his head like it had a life of his own. Maybe that’s where his super power was?

 

They both had their socked feet on the coffee table, empty tea cups shuffled to the side, balancing dreadfully close to the edge of the table. Louis should get up and move the cups. Soon.

 

They were listening to a playlist of Louis’ favorite Skillet-songs and talking lazily about things they deemed necessary to talk about. In other words, Louis was whining about this and that - mainly about how lonely he was and how sad his life was - and Steve dutifully countered with a silver lining to everything.  

 

Steve was one of Louis’ closest friends. Maybe his best friend, Louis thought. When they first met, about eight years ago, they were co-workers and Louis was assigned to train Steve. They hit it off quickly and Louis’ little group of friends grew to cover three people. 

 

This was huge for Louis, because up until a year earlier - when Louis started his job and had gotten to know Liam and Niall - he’d been friendless for a long, long time.

 

“I think I might be ready to start thinking about maybe finding someone.” Louis said quietly. 

 

Steve turned his head to look at Louis and gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised high.

 

“To have. As a boyfriend. I think. Maybe?” Louis added.

 

Steve sat up straight and folded his legs under the purple pillow he put on his lap. He pulled a hair tie from his wrist and quickly put his hair up in a ponytail before speaking.

 

“I have vivid memories of us having this conversation last summer.” Steve established with a weirdly calm sort of excitement. “We made a list of what you look for in a man and everything.”

 

“I know. Just because I don’t want to vomit at the thought of maybe looking for someone to date, does  _ not _ mean I’ll find a man immediately. These things take time, Steve.” Louis spoke at a fast pace. “And I’m still more comfortable with the thought of never ever having sex again and dying alone, than letting someone see me naked. And I’m almost sure that I still don’t want to go through all the uncertainty that is dating.”

 

“You know it’s not going to be like it was before, right?” Steve asked empathically.

 

Louis sighed dejectedly, leaning further into the sofa cushions, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Do I? Do I really?”

 

One part of Louis’ healing process was that he had decided to be completely celibate while he still was healing.

 

About a year and a half earlier Louis had divorced his second husband after just a short marriage. It was clear that the universe had reasons in mind when Louis had met husband number two. Among other things, he helped Louis become sober.

 

One of the reasons their marriage lasted as long as two years, was that Louis was scared to death of not having the strength to stay sober while single.

 

He was so very afraid of regressing to that party boy person he’d been all the other times he was single. Partying away, as often as possible, sleeping with anyone with a dick and a little warmth to offer, seemingly happy and carefree. 

 

On the outside, that was. On the inside there was a very frightened little boy, so desperately looking for someone to love him, to validate him and make him feel like he was worth something.

 

Louis knew that if he didn’t heal mentally and emotionally before he went looking for someone to be with, he would only find himself in a destructive relationship with someone just as broken as Louis himself. And that was no longer acceptable.

 

“Yeah,” Steve answered in a confident tone. “you do!”

 

“You’re not the same person anymore, Lou. You’re sober for one, that changes everything, don’t you see that?” Steve asked.

 

“And your values are completely different now.” He continued, “Louis, you’re a better and brighter person, there’s no way you’d start sleeping around like a sex-crazed maniac.”

 

“Aww. Thanks Stevie!” Louis deadpanned.

 

“What I’m saying is, that maybe having a little sex sometimes is healthier than not having any sex at all for years and years and years and...” Steve explained. “How many years has it been?”

 

“But I don’t want sex. I want love.” Louis sighed tiredly, feeling his eyes start to burn with beginning tears. “I want to love someone. And I want that someone to love me back.”

 

Steve scooted closer and pulled him close, let Louis rest his head on his shoulder. 

 

Louis was almost crying and he was so grateful that Steve knew him well enough to know that he was really uncomfortable with someone seeing him crying, and changed their positions so he wouldn’t have to fight the tears. The best friend, really.

 

“I just want unconditional love. The soulmate kind.” Louis continued. “Is it really so hard, to just let me have someone? A someone that when I’m sad- or  insecure, worried or, or whatever- would just look at me with unwavering eyes, full of love and trust and strength and-”

 

Louis paused to take a deep breath, his voice unsteady, “And tell me  _ ‘You can do this. I am here. All the way, love, I am here.’ _ I want someone to choose me. To really choose me, Steve. I’ve never been someone’s first choice. Never.” Louis sniffled.

 

Steve hugged him closer and kissed Louis’ hair. “I know, babe, I know.”

 

“And now I can’t stop thinking about Harry. And his damn eyes looking all calm and beautiful.” Louis complained.

 

“Harry is the guy you went to London for?” Steve asked.

 

Louis rolled his eyes, sat up straight and tried discreetly to wipe away the snot with the back of his hand. “I didn’t go to London for  _ him _ , but yeah, he’s the one I met with.”

 

Steve got up and fetched some toilet paper and handed it to Louis. “Could he be someone you’d ask out on a date? Have you heard from him again?”

 

Louis snorted and that action made it necessary for him to blow his nose. “ _ No _ , he’s way too perfect for me to date.”

 

“Don’t put yourself down like that.” Steve’s voice had a sad and disappointed tone to it. Like he was all too familiar with this kind of talk from Louis.  

 

“But yes, I have heard from him.” Louis interrupted the stream of proofs of Louis’ greatness he’s pretty sure was about to be the next thing out of Steve’s mouth. 

 

“He sends me messages every couple of days asking how I’m doing and wondering if he can do anything for me.”

 

“Well, why don’t you... “

 

“No.” Louis said with determination. “It’s not like that.”

 

They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the music. Louis contemplated getting up to make some more tea, but it was just too much effort.

 

“You should have sex with Niall!” Steve suddenly lights up, like he had the epiphany of a lifetime, playfulness clear in his voice.

 

“I’m  _ not _ having sex with Niall.” Louis gasped, eyes wide and hand coming up to his chest to demonstrate the outrage.

 

A lot of people continuously thought there was something going on between Louis and Niall. There wasn’t, there never was and never would be anything but strictly platonic friendship between the two. Sure, they shared a bed sometimes, and they sat in each others laps and cuddled on the sofa - hence everyone thinking they were having sex - but that was just the way they were.

 

In a way Louis was closer with Niall than with Steve, or even Liam. Niall would sleep over every now and then and they’d watch Eddie Izzard shows on youtube, eat a lot of takeaway, talk about conspiracy theories and aliens and everything too crazy to bring up to regular people. And then they would both sleep in Louis’ bed. 

 

Yes, they were only in their underwear, and sometimes they cuddled, but there was never anything remotely sexual about it. Mostly they’d just lie in the dark and talk about everything.

 

Which reminded Louis, he needed to make plans with Niall soon. With all four of them, really. A lads night was long overdue.

 

“Why not?” Steve voiced his question. “I’m sure he’d be up for it, if you’d just ask. Niall loves you.” Louis was just going to ignore the complete lack of understanding and respect there, as Steve continued explaining. “You haven’t had sex in years and you’re lacking the confidence to get out there and find someone to at least sleep with.”

 

Louis had different relationships with all three of his friends. All of them were his best friends, each in their own way.

 

Liam had some of the same scars as Louis. They understood each other on a whole other level than Niall or Steve ever could. Niall was the one Louis cuddled with. And Steve was the one who always was there, giving gentle advice, but wasn’t afraid to push Louis a little.

 

With each one of them Louis could laugh and be himself. He had the best friends and he had  wonderful kids, maybe he should just be happy with that. He did have so much more than a lot of other people had. He really didn’t have any reason to feel lonely, so why did he?  

 

Louis shook his head, laughter threatening to break free from his chest, the thought of sex with Niall being so ridiculous it was funny.

 

”I’m not having sex with him. I’m not attracted to him. And he’s not attracted to me!” He said exasperatedly.

 

And before Steve could keep pressing, which he absolutely would, Louis continued in a more serious tone, “I’m done sleeping with people I’m not attracted to. Do you know how many men I’ve slept with, that I really didn’t want to sleep with? A lot. A lot a lot.”

 

Louis got up from the sofa, a little too restless and annoyed to sit still. “Besides, it could ruin our friendship.” He was pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. A table Louis had made all by himself, he’d have you know.   

 

“You’ve had friends with benefits before.” Steve pointed out. “Hell, you’ve slept with Liam. Was your friendship ruined?”

 

“No, but that was a one time thing.” Louis said.

 

“Two.”

 

“Fine! A two time thing and we were stupid drunk both times. We were lucky it didn’t change our friendship more than it actually did.” Louis said with finality.

 

“Okay.” Steve chuckled at Louis defensiveness. “Could we at least go through the list? You’ll see that Niall fits all your criteria.”

 

Steve laughed as Louis huffed and stomped out of the living room, threatening to throw him out.

 

At least Louis wasn’t sad anymore.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. <3


	4. The Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I can't keep myself from posting chapters at the slow pace of one chapter per day. So forget about my initial plan - I'll just post whenever I feel like it. All the chapters are already written (except for chapter 27, the epilogue), so they'll come in a steady stream, don't worry. 
> 
>  
> 
>  **Trigger warnings:**  
>  Past emotional abuse and controlling behaviour.  
> Mentions of narcissistic personality disorder.  
> Mentions of death, suicide. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons  
> Numb - Linkin Park  
> Throne - Bring Me The Horizon  
> City Lights - Blanche
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

A cloudless mid-december afternoon Louis stepped inside his flat and took off his protective gear - which in Louis’ case meant a pair of sunglasses and earphones. 

 

He rarely left the house without them, as this was one of his safety behaviors - one he was not supposed to use, according to his psychologist. But how was Louis ever going to get out of the house if he couldn’t shield himself with sunglasses and keep people from talking to him with earphones?

 

He put them on the semi-antique side table, which was set on one long side of the hall. Opposite of it was the wooden coat rack that Louis had attempted to paint in the same murky green that was the side table’s chipped off paint.

 

“Anyone home?” Louis raised his voice whilst listening to any signs of life from inside the flat. Non came, the kids were no doubt still loitering around at school.

 

After toeing his sneakers off and hanging up his coat on the rack, Louis went to each of his kids’ rooms and put a neatly wrapped present on their unmade beds. Louis felt relieved that that was the last of this year’s Christmas presents. Everyone had gotten theirs, so Louis could cross that off from his stressful list of to-do’s.

 

Christmas in the Tomlinson household had been a little different the past couple of years. Louis had decided to break tradition and create his own version of Christmas celebration when he became single. He’d realised that he wouldn’t be able to afford a bunch of Christmas presents for Jonathan and Rose, let alone Louis’ siblings and all their kids, all at once.

 

Starting as early as in July or August, every now and then the kids would come home from school to a very excited Louis handing them a present each. “Christmas pressies” he would say and smile widely in anticipation of his children’s reactions. And so it went on, all autumn, stopping in late November or maybe early December. Sure, he could just buy presents all year long and stock up for Christmas day, but Louis never was very good at keeping himself from giving the presents right away.

 

Even with handing out the presents to both his kids, his nieces and his nephews all autumn long, Louis, Jonathan and Rose would still spend Christmas day at Louis parents’ house or at one of his siblings’. 

 

This year though, Louis had decided that he was not participating in whatever happenings took place on Christmas Eve or Christmas day. 

 

Not only because eight or so adults and about a hundred kids was a hell-hole of stress and anxiety, but because Jonathan and Rose weren’t even going to be there, so Louis had absolutely no reason for trying to breathe his way through hours and hours of high volumed chatter and out right screaming, in his attempts to make it a normal Christmas for his kids.

 

Months ago, both Rose and Jonathan had separately asked Louis if they could spend Christmas at their Papa’s for once.

 

Louis so wanted to be the bitter one, the one holding grudges, and deny them that. But of course he couldn’t. If the kids wanted to spend Christmas with their other parent, then they should get to spend Christmas with their other parent. 

 

Louis tried to console himself with the thought that he was being the bigger person here.

 

When Louis divorced Joseph, ten or so years ago, they had agreed on a few things regarding their children. 

 

The kids would spend equal amount of time with both parents, resulting in the  _ a week at Dad’s - a week at Papa’s _ schedule. 

 

They would split expenses in half and make sure they both covered their part - either by paying half each or paying every other time. Especially regarding seasonal clothing and expensive things like bicycles, helmets, skates and the fees and equipment for whatever activities the kids chose to get involved in. 

 

They also agreed that holidays and birthday celebrations would alternate between them, one year with one parent and next year with the other parent.

 

During the first year after the divorce most of it had gone to hell. 

 

It had started with Louis getting a lot of shit from Joseph for dressing the kids in ugly clothing - making them look homeless, apparently. Sure, Louis liked to shop in second hand stores, but there was nothing wrong with the clothes he bought.

 

It had escalated and soon the kids had an entirely separate wardrobe at their Papa’s. The attire Louis chose for them went into a plastic bag as soon as it was Joseph’s week, to be brought out and put on the day Jonathan and Rose were supposed to come back to Louis. Apparently it was absolutely forbidden to bring any clothing to Dad’s that Papa had bought. 

 

This rule soon expanded and applied to coats, shoes, beanies and mittens too. The kids had two sets of everything. Everything! It seemed Joseph and his new wife tried very hard to have a whole different set of kids than Louis had.

 

Louis had let the clothing thing slide. He could buy every piece of clothing his kids needed. This was of course when he still had a job and worked the same as everyone else.

 

Nowadays Louis sometimes wondered if he might have hurt Jonathan and Rose by not putting up a fight back then. Knowing how compassionate they are, they must have felt awful being told that their Dad didn’t provide them with good enough clothes. Or did they maybe feel ashamed on Louis’ weeks, having to wear the ugly clothes he bought for them? 

 

Louis made a mental note to ask them about that later.

 

That first year it had been Joseph’s Christmas with the kids. The year after Louis had tried to make plans for when to switch and was only met with the somewhat aggressive answer of  _ ‘It’s my week, the kids stay with me. You get them on your week.’ _

 

Louis had been so angry. The kids had been confused about why they wouldn’t get to spend Christmas with their Dad as planned. 

 

Louis had held it together, saying it was better not to disturb the weeks, it would be easier for everyone. He was shielding the kids from the truth and making excuses for that arse they call Papa. As he always did. Never letting the kids know what kind of shit that Papa of theirs did.

 

Louis then arranged a special day for the kids a week before Christmas. 

 

He got up at the arse crack of dawn and started making all their favourite Christmas food. They had a cosy and beautiful substitute for Christmas. The kids seemed happy. 

 

Maybe it was the extra presents they got, but Louis was relieved either way.

 

That Christmas Louis had been drunk out of his mind for several days straight. Going out to pubs and clubs, drinking and dancing to put all that anger and disappointment away.

 

The year after that, karma had stepped in and made sure that the year had 53 weeks, shifting Christmas to Louis week for years and years to come.

 

Given the history of their Christmases, it was only natural for resistance to arise in Louis at the thought of letting the kids go when they asked for it. 

 

He really, really, really wanted to refuse this abnormal switch. He should have. But he didn’t.

 

* * *

 

When Christmas Eve came, Louis was happy to be by himself. He lazed around his empty flat and was very much enjoying the feeling of not needing to be anywhere or do anything.

 

He didn’t even bother to cook for himself, opted to just eat plenty of gingerbread cookies and milk whenever he felt the rumblings of hunger in his stomach. Meaning the cookie jar was dragged along all day and set on the nearest surface to wherever Louis decided to spend his time.

 

Louis got a few texts throughout the day wishing him happy birthday, but other than that it was a quiet and relaxing day.

 

In the evening Louis got a bit bored of just reading any of the seven books he was currently reading, or writing down ideas for future blog posts in one of his notebooks. 

 

And what do you do when you’re bored? Yes, Facebook.

 

Louis had purposely avoided any and all social media on this day, and planned on doing the same on Christmas day. 

 

He wanted to keep his calm, not getting dragged into all the debates on whether you should be sober on Christmas or if everyone really were as happy and cozy as they claimed with their perfect pictures. 

 

There were, of course, the millions of birthday wishes Louis didn’t want to read either.

 

As he was making his way to the computer in the corner of the living room, his phone demanded attention by playing the sound for a message received. Twice.

 

The first text was from Louis’ sister, Erin.

 

**_They’re gone now, if you want to come over for a bit._ **

 

The “they” in Erin’s message referred to Louis’ parents. Erin, being only a year younger than Louis, was the one of his siblings he had the closest relationship with. She knew that it was not all stress and anxiety that had kept Louis away this day. Some of it was not wanting to deal with their parents.

 

Louis declined her offer and clicked to read the next message. It was from Harry.

 

If Louis was being honest with himself - which he really didn’t want to be - he had been thinking about this devilishly handsome man a lot lately.

 

Since their first meeting a month or so ago, Harry had been very persistent, sending Louis messages every few days, offering his help and making sure Louis was doing okay. Which was sweet, naturally, but sometimes Louis couldn’t help but wonder if Harry had ulterior motives. 

 

There had to be something fishy underneath that surface of this genuine, kind and beautiful hippie. Right? Maybe the government had sent him to infiltrate Louis’ home and gather inside information about his conspiracy theories and crazy habits.

 

**_Facebook told me it’s your birthday, so happy birthday! :) How are you feeling today? Is the isolation doing you any good?_ **

 

It was always Harry who initiated contact. Louis mostly showed his interest in being in contact with Harry by liking the pictures and articles he shared on Facebook. 

 

Harry asked questions and Louis answered them. Louis whined about shit and Harry gave advice. Harry also told him about his own days and was being a really good friend in general.

 

_ Aww, thanks Harold! :D Isolation is always the best decision, even during holidays. I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. I’m having to fight off some guilt towards the kids, but other than that it’s all fine. How are your Christmas celebrations coming along?   _

 

Louis often got captured by their conversations. Never noticing time flying by. The last few times they’d messaged back and forth until morning. 

 

That was kind of typical of Louis. He liked to write at night, alone in front of his computer screen, surrounded by darkness and silence. That was when Louis was the most comfortable, felt like himself. Sometimes he lit a candle or two, just to draw positive energy from the candlelight to help with his creativity.

  
**_Feelings of guilt and shame are something we learn, something we are taught to feel. You should never listen to that. Besides, you ARE allowed to enjoy yourself. You’re not a bad father for feeling happy and harmonious without your children._ **

 

**_My Christmas is going as expected. I’ve just arrived at Alice’s. She says hi, btw. :)_ **

**_She’s heating up dinner for me. Tomorrow we’ll go to Mum’s grave._ **

 

Harry’s view on life and death was interesting to Louis. 

 

Somehow Harry had learnt - through experience and by being out in the woods by himself and connecting with the universe, with nature and his true self - that everything is happening just the way it’s supposed to. That every situation, every meeting and every choice is there to give us growth. We are meant to learn from everything, and everything is there to help us. We might not see the bigger picture, but Harry said that he believed with his whole being that nothing was random.

 

Wait. Harry had told his sister about Louis? 

 

Louis’ heart accelerated and if it wasn’t hidden inside his body, it probably would make some rattling noise with all the pins and screws that most likely came loose from that intense thumping.

 

_ I’d like to meet your sister sometime. :) _

_ I’m so sorry about your mum. <3 I wish I could make it better for you. Easier. _

 

A few nights back Harry had told Louis about how his mother had narcissistic personality disorder and all the ways it had affected Harry’s childhood.  _ “It was awful, Lou. When I was younger I referred to home as Hell, capital H and everything.” _ Harry had said, and then proceeded to telling how his mother used to twist and manipulate everything so that she was the victim in every situation and everyone was always deliberately trying to hurt her. 

 

She usually threatened to kill herself when she didn’t get her way. When Harry and his sister Alice were old enough to recognise the manipulation and know that the logic behind it was faulty, they’d try their best to stand up against her and refuse to get sucked into her games.

 

Louis felt kind of relieved when Harry had shared this information. Harry being so open and honest, showing Louis that he wasn’t alone in dealing with mental disorders, had changed the way he perceived their relationship. It had switched from a stranger being kind and helpful, to friendship. Real friendship, with two participants and everything.

 

Harry’s mother committed suicide when he was twenty.  _ “We always knew that someday she would go through with her threats.” _

 

Harry had told Louis that for a few years after her death he had felt guilty, but he had gained insight and knew now that there was no reason for his guilt.

 

He said that he knew that if his upbringing had been different, he never would have been able to help people the way he does today. So despite once using the term ‘hell’ about his home, he was genuinely thankful for the experiences he had had as a child.

 

Louis had also gotten to know that around holidays Harry usually carried around a bit of sadness. Not so much because his mother was gone, the sadness he felt was for that little Harry he once was. That five year old who didn’t get his needs met. That eight year old who truly believed that he was the cause of his mother’s struggles. Or that twelve year old whose only sanctuary was in the freedom nature provided, in the woods, to where he would run and stay in for several days straight.

 

Louis wondered if his own mother was narcissistic too.

 

**_You are doing just that. You are making everything easier. <3_ **

**_Can we skype?_ **

 

Louis found himself wishing that Harry would live a bit closer. He wanted the option of them being able to spend time together.

 

Louis wanted to do everyday things with Harry, instead of this long distance friendship they had going on, where all they could do was tell each other about their days. He wanted to show his support for Harry and his difficulties as much as Harry did to him. 

 

But skype wasn’t an option.

 

_ I don’t know how to skype. And before you start with the solutions here, I can’t learn either. I’m not comfortable in front of a camera. I can’t even take selfies. So no. :(  Not today at least. Maybe we can try it some other time. _

 

**_That’s okay. I love how aware of your behaviors and limitations you are, but you don’t view them as constants. And you’re setting boundaries, be really proud of yourself for that._ **

 

**_Let the healing come to you. When you truly want to overcome your fear of being on camera, the intention is loud and clear in your heart. Listen to what the universe is telling you and let the healing come to you._ **

 

A new text came before Louis even had the chance to contemplate the answer.

 

 ** _Can I at least call you? :)_**

 

Not for the first time, Louis was thoroughly amazed by Harry’s attitude. His childhood hell was similar to Louis’ own, but still he held so much love and trust for humanity. Always trying to help, and succeeding in making Louis feel better. He’s so non-judgemental, never questioning Louis’ statements, just letting things be as they were.

 

Louis typed a quick reply to Harry and then accepted his call when the ringing and buzzing started.

 

“Listen Lou, I’ve been thinking.” Harry blurts hurriedly before Louis even had the chance to say hello.

 

Louis chuckled and told Harry to go on, so he did. 

 

“Now that I’m home again, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to move back here. I do know that I’m done with London and I want to live up north. It would be really nice to move to some place I already know someone. I- what do you- would it be weird if I move to Doncaster?” Harry rushed to ask.

 

Louis didn’t really know what to say, so he just stared straight ahead. His eyes were trailing the line of photographs hanging of the wall he was facing, while Harry babbled on.

 

“I’ve looked at some houses and flats online and there are quite a lot available. I was also thinking about maybe renting a little office space and setting up a regular office, you know. Instead of solely focusing on the outdoors I could have sessions in an office.”

 

Louis still didn’t say a peep in response. He was stunned into silence, mind racing and trying to make sense of everything.

 

Harry just went on with his monologue, “You know, with that kind of change and addition to this little business of mine, I would need someone to redo my website… I mean, you could write articles for the website and maybe help manage social media, couldn’t you?” 

 

Then he hurriedly added “I’d pay you of course!”

 

Suddenly Harry went silent, like he remembered that there was supposed to be another person involved in this conversation. He really had a tendency to babble on and on when he was nervous.

 

Neither of them spoke for a few moments and then Harry groaned “Oh god, I went too far, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Louis.”

 

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking a lot about all these scenarios where we could spend actual time together. We could go out to the woods and I’d get to try my new methods. You’d be a guinea pig of sorts.” Harry’s smile was evident in his voice.

 

It was almost a whisper when he added “I just really like you.”

 

“But why?” Louis asked, very confused.

 

“Because you’re amazing. So strong, and you don’t even know it-” Harry answered lightly.

 

Louis wouldn’t allow himself to even consider the idea of there being a romantic interest between him and Harry. 

Louis was celibate. He did not do romance. Or sex. 

 

He wasn’t really ready to put his heart or body out there for someone to destroy, no matter what he had told Steve. Besides, Harry was way out of his league, so far beyond what Louis could have, that it would be funny if Louis were to think of Harry as a possible partner.

 

“No, why do you want to move here and give me a job?” Louis pressed.

 

Harry answer came instantly “Because I want to spend time with you,  I want to get to know you. I like you, Louis, and I feel drawn to you.”

 

Louis’ burrowed his eyebrows as his confusion deepened. He shook his head and could only repeat his question, “Why?” 

 

This was getting ridiculous.

 

Harry’s smile could be heard again as he took a deep breath and began explaining once again. This time he included their past interactions to explain the hows and whys.

 

“I don’t really want so scare you, but- um- I knew when I read your first message that you were special, that I would come to have a special connection to you, Lou.”   

 

Louis hummed, it was the only thing he could do since his brain was malfunctioning a bit.

 

“Do you believe that some events are meant to happen and some people are meant to meet?” Harry asked.

 

“I don’t know. Do you mean like soulmates?” Louis countered with a little defensive tilt to his voice.

 

“Well… Kind of. I feel that there’s a really heavy connection between us. I believe that we were supposed to meet and the relationship between us is meant to be special.” Harry said carefully.

 

Louis hummed again. Not sure what he was supposed to think or feel about Harry’s revelations. It seemed unreal, to have someone tell you that they believe their meeting was orchestrated by fate. 

 

It was scary, too. But somehow, the grounding pull Louis felt towards Harry, dulled the fear.

 

“I don’t know on what level our relationship will end up, but I’d like to have the opportunity to explore that part. And I am afraid of pushing you away by being too forward. But I also believe in honesty and communication, so I’m telling you straight out.” Harry said confidently.

 

And for that, Louis was grateful. It was nice, for change, knowing that what Harry said was the truth, and that if there was more to say, Harry would talk.

 

“Was that why you were a bit hesitant talking about your view of the world when we first met?” Louis asked as the memory entered his mind.

 

“You noticed that, huh? I thought I was getting away with that cool and collected facade.” Harry laughed and Louis couldn’t help trying to imagine how Harry's eyes might twinkle when he tried to act all breezy.

 

“Yeah I didn’t want to scare you away before I even got a chance to know you. It’s not really standard procedure to meet up like that. Normally I coach via skype, hold a few workshops and that’s that.” Harry admitted sheepishly.

 

Louis giggled, relieved that the tension that was building released. “So you  _ do _ have an ulterior motive? You want to get into my pants.” Louis accused.   

 

“I just want to spend time with you. I knew that before I even met you and I am not apologising for it.” Harry said softly, but with finality.

 

On his 36th birthday, Louis went to bed smiling, with a warm, cozy feeling in his chest.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. The next chapter will be a difficult one. :/


	5. The Trigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Major trigger warning on this chapter.**  
>  This is the first really difficult chapter. Louis’ PTSD is triggered and he has a massive flashback of past abuse. He’s hospitalised because of it.   
> Detailed descriptions of violence.  
> Neglect. 
> 
> Be careful when you read. You are responsible for keeping yourself safe. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you’re currently in an abusive situation, please reach out to someone and ask for help. Do it again and again and again, until you come across someone who will take you seriously. _You_ deserve a life free of all kinds of abuse. You _are_ worth a life without abuse. **You really are**. Don’t give up on yourself. Stay safe. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Going Under - Evanescence   
> Crawling - Linkin Park  
> Psychosocial - Slipknot  
> Open Wounds - Skillet 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

The room was dim, lit only by the light from the late afternoon sun. The electric lights were turned off and dust particles could be seen dancing in the stripes of faint light flowing in through the open blinds. They looked like tiny, sparkling diamonds dancing around. Who knew that dust could be seen as beautiful? It was quite a show.

 

Louis let out an exhausted sigh as he pushed back the rickety chair and stood up from his desk. He picked up the empty tea cup with the intention of filling it up again and walked the ten steps in distance to the kitchen. 

 

He was always over-consuming the hot beverage when stressed out. Not a good habit perhaps, but at least he had followed Harry’s recommendation and recently added a few different herbal teas to his collection. Healthier, or whatever.

 

Louis had just finished a lengthy article for a magazine that was raising awareness of mental health issues. With a little luck, the payment for this job would come quick enough to help cover next month’s bills.

 

He was so tired, but there was no time for rest.

 

Being a freelance writer with a limited and unpredictable ability to actually do some writing, there was no steady income in the Tomlinson household. Money wasn’t always flowing in as fast as the thick pile of monthly bills demanded. 

 

Periodically, Louis went through all his expenses, deciding if anything could be cut - it rarely did, since everything that could be cut had already been cut - and then he tried to gather the funds to cover the remaining ones for the foreseeable future.

 

Every couple of months Louis would sell some of the family’s belongings. It had started out with the big, expensive stuff.

 

The car went first, a couple of years ago, then some of their furniture and electronics they could manage without. Then the kid’s old toys and clothes that were too small. Then the possessions that held great emotional value for Louis.

 

Now he was down to selling random small, useless stuff that didn’t really hold any monetary value. Like household items, some books here and there, candlesticks and Christmas decorations, coats and shoes - nobody needs more than one pair anyway. Last week he sold his mediocre DVD-collection.

 

Ebay was an amazing invention that helped Louis stretch out his savings account for a while longer and kept it from running out of funds. After having frequently withdrawn money from the savings account for several years, there was not all that much left.

 

* * *

 

It was three days until new year's eve and Louis had spent too much of his energy this day arguing with Joseph about money.

 

January was coming up and that meant all the fees for the kids’ different activities needed to be paid. 

 

Additionally, both Jonathan’s and Rose’s phones were suddenly showing signs that their life-spans were rapidly coming to an end. They would need new phones in the near future.

 

Louis harbored enough concern - of hysterical proportions, really - for the kids’ and their well being for wanting them to have functioning and reliable phones. He was not okay with failing to get a hold of his children for hours and hours on end, worrying himself to madness, only to be informed hours later that the phone had suddenly decided to shut itself off and refused to be turned on again. Things could have happened, damn it. They needed functioning phones.

 

Joseph did not agree, of course, insisting on it being too costly.

 

When the text came, Louis was still going through his resources - both financial and energetic. He was scanning his usual ways of income, looking for assignments he might be able to manage.

 

Louis was trying to estimate how much energy he could muster, how long he could keep the level high enough to finish the job and if he would get enough money out of it.

 

He researched payment plans and looked into his credit card debts, to see if there was any way he’d be able to afford two cheap but functioning phones for his kids.

 

A simple text.

 

**_I don’t think you want to have this conversation with me._ **

 

Louis breath was abruptly caught in his throat the second his brain registered the meaning of these words. His chest tightened. His heart and lungs were being crushed under the pressure of an invisible force and his stomach was most likely trying to empty itself of it’s contents.

 

Heavy, deep sobs were ripped out of him as he sagged over the keyboard. He was gripping the desk and holding on to it with all he had, knuckles white and struggling to breathe.

 

Louis’ vision blurred as flashes of different scenes filled his reality.

 

_ He was pressed against a wall. A heavy, sweaty body leaning against him, unmoving. A large hand was pressing tightly against Louis’ throat, barely allowing him to swallow. _

_ “Remember, that I’m stronger than you,” a man’s voice growled. “I will always be stronger than you.”  _

 

_ The words were spat at him, one sentence at a time. “You have nothing against me, whore.” _

 

_ Whore. _

 

_ Louis was shoved harshly. He lost his balance and fell backwards, his shoulder hit the stove with enough force to break the handle. He landed on the floor, broken handle beneath him causing a sharp pain where it was digging into his back. _

 

_ “You have nothing against me.” _

 

_ He was inside a dark room, pounding on the locked door and desperately screaming to be let out. Banging and kicking on the door, screaming. Panicking at being locked up. “Whore.” _

 

_ “Stronger than you. Always stronger than you.”  _

 

_ His head was being bashed against the cup holder on the bus. Louis was overwhelmed by shame, as people were watching.  _

 

_ “Always stronger.”  _

 

_ No one cared, no one helped. Louis’ shame sank deeper into his bones, as this confirmed his worthlessness. This was what he deserved. Knowing his son was present, he prayed that someone among the audience at least would have the decency to cover the four year old’s eyes. _

 

_ Always. Whore. _

 

_ Whore. Whore. _

 

The words were echoing in Louis’ head as he struggled to get air into his lungs. 

 

He didn’t know how long he was sitting there, sobbing and shaking, while his brain was re-living memories he had worked so, so hard to forget.

 

For Louis, the text he received was a threat. He was going to get beaten. Once again he’d have to stand there, humiliated, and metaphorically bow his head in submission and acknowledge his lesser status. 

 

Once again he’d have to take blame. Take responsibility. For what, he usually didn’t know. His body reacted accordingly, preparing to protect itself against the imminent danger.

 

For anyone else that most likely was a harmless text. Perhaps on the edge of a little rude, but nothing more than that. Nothing deviating from normal, everyday conversation.

 

For Louis, his whole life changed at those innocuous words.

 

The flashbacks were playing intermittently on a loop. The noises and sensations from memories intertwined with reality. Louis didn’t know what was then and what was now. 

 

Somewhere amongst that chaos, he had the presence of mind to understand that he alone could not handle this, he needed help.

 

With the breathing exercises ingrained in Louis, he started changing his short and shallow breathing to drawing deeper, calming breaths. When he could focus his eyes, he scrambled for his phone.

 

Once he managed to open the messenger app - it taking seconds or hours, Louis did not know - he sent a request for help in the group chat he had with his best friends.

 

* * *

 

Louis was on edge and a little disoriented when he let Steve and Niall inside his flat. 

 

He was constantly crying, alternating between loud, heart wrenching sobbing and silently just letting his tears fall. He tried to get himself together before the boys came, but there was no way Louis could keep all this contained, even with his extensive training in keeping everything locked away inside him.

 

Niall and Steve both approached Louis, eyes wide with worry, wanting to know what had happened. Louis didn’t have the words to describe it. Something had happened and he needed help to handle that, to figure out what it was.

 

Niall, being the most touchy feely in their group, hugged Louis while Steve was scanning the room to see if there was any physical evidence of what might have caused Louis’ state of distress.

 

Louis stiffened in Niall’s embrace, making the blonde hesitantly let go of him. A part of Louis wanted to be held and comforted. He wanted to feel safe. Another part of him couldn’t let anyone touch him, couldn’t trust anyone not to hurt him.

 

“We need to go to the hospital, don’t we?” Niall asked with a tone that was much too cautious to match the horrified expression his face was showing.

 

Louis nodded, the crying once again increasing and adding new thickness to the stream of constant tears.

 

This was not normal. It was not normal reacting this badly to a crappy, insignificant text. It was not normal being in hysterics over shit that happened some ten-fifteen years ago. This was not healthy. So yes, hospital.

 

“I need to tell someone what happened.” Louis croaked, voice hoarse and quiet.  

 

At that Steve started gathering some things to take with - joggers and t-shirt, underwear and socks, phone charger, phone and wallet.

 

“I’m not going to move there.” Louis weakly tried to joke as Steve went to get a small bag to put everything in.

 

Steve smiled at him sadly, “Just in case,” he said and then proceeded to ask if he should call Louis’ mum or sister. 

 

Louis just shook his head. It was not the time to add that mother of his into this mess. “I can’t handle her right now. And Erin shouldn’t have to worry.”

 

On the car ride to the hospital the boys informed Louis that Liam was out of town, worried sick, and bombarding their group chat with questions. Louis hadn’t even noticed the frequent buzzing of his phone. He was busy with just breathing and staying upright, not able to really focus his attention on multiple things.

 

Louis’ thoughts were a bit more coherent when they reached the hospital. The flashbacks were making a bit more sense once they sat down in the waiting room of A&E. 

 

A long time ago, Louis and his psychologist had talked about the possibility of Louis suffering from PTSD, but since Louis didn’t have any recollection of nightmares or flashbacks, they had moved on from that hypothesis.

 

The anxiety had dulled down to an annoying ache and the fear had all but left his bones. Louis was so, so exhausted. And sad. His head hurt and eyes were swollen almost shut. His cheeks and stubble-covered chin were red and blotchy from all that crying. A part of Louis was worried about people seeing him like this. Ugly and looking a lot shittier than usual.

 

Maybe he should go home again, instead of bothering people.

 

Niall and Steve were a constant presence in Louis’ personal sphere, sitting close to him on the black-cushioned steel bench. They were tentatively giving Louis comforting touches and making small talk about trivial things, no doubt avoiding to set off another round of Louis’ relentless tears.

 

The subject of Louis mental state and tonight’s incident hadn’t come up since they left the flat. 

 

Louis had the best friends, the very best friends. He was so, so lucky.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, the wait wasn’t that long and soon Louis got to shakily tell his story to the kind-eyed doctor, while holding the hands of his two best friends.

 

The doctor, a brown haired woman, told Louis that what he had experienced earlier that night was a trauma trigger. The text message had triggered the flashbacks, the suppressed memories of previous traumas.

 

“These are clear symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.” the doctor declared.  

 

Since it was the first time to Louis’ knowledge his PTSD was triggered, the doctor wanted to have Louis admitted to the hospital overnight. That way Louis would have access to skilled personnel and the chance to get answers right away if any questions or worries should arise. He would get medication if he needed and in the morning his psychologist would be called and they could schedule an emergency session.

 

The doctor answered all questions Louis could come up with and then left with the promise of checking in on him once he was settled in the ward he’d be spending the night in. Steve and Niall stayed with Louis until a young male nurse came to show Louis to the psychiatric unit.

 

It was a little scary walking in the empty hallways of the hospital, on the way to the psychiatric unit. 

 

_ It’s a long way to where the crazy people end up. _ Louis thought, chuckling amusedly in his head. He smiled a bit at the fitting description of himself. Crazy, indeed.

 

Louis was allowed to keep his joggers and t-shirt to sleep in. He could keep his phone if he promised to keep it on silent and not read anything triggering. Everything else was taken away. His belt and the phone charger were strictly forbidden since they could be used to aid suicide. 

 

Huh. Louis had not considered that innocent everyday items like charger cords could be really dangerous.

 

Louis sat cross legged on the bed he was assigned, getting used to the atmosphere of this place. 

The room was small with a kind of homely feeling to it. In addition to the bed, there was an armchair in one of the corners and dark blue curtains hanging in the window. The bedsheets were a lighter blue, still matching though. Cozy.

 

This was not at all what Louis thought crazy people storage would look like. He snickered to himself at that thought. Louis’ definition of crazy was in no way derogatory or mean. For him ‘crazy’ was mostly a positive term, the negative opposite of it was ‘normal’ - as in fall in line, follow the masses, never think for yourself-normal. 

 

Louis considered himself crazy, in a fun and eclectic way. His diagnoses just added to the humour. He was both funny crazy and ordinary crazy. And now he was here, in a psych ward. A psych patient. It was hilarious. And maybe it was fate, too.  

 

Louis declined the doctor’s offer of sleep medication. Now that there was an explanation for his incident, it wasn’t so difficult accepting it. There was no fear or worry heightening his anxiety levels. 

 

What he had gone through had a name and a reason. And most importantly, a treatment.  

 

* * *

 

Time was inching by ridiculously slowly. Two different nurses had come by with two different trays of food - breakfast and lunch. 

 

The doctor doing morning rounds had been too stressed for Louis to want to ask the questions his mind had formed since last night. He was supposed to get discharged after a session with his regular psychologist, but said psychologist was seemingly in no hurry to come to the psych unit. 

 

He wanted answers to his questions and he wanted to go home. Steve was already on his way to pick him up.

 

Forty minutes later than expected, there was a quick knock on the door before it opened and Johnny - Louis’ psychologist - entered in a flurry of coats and scarves. 

 

Louis closed the game of Candy crush he had open on his phone and listened to Johnny apologising for being late. Car trouble, apparently. 

 

Louis looked at him amusedly. He’d never seen Johnny this disorganised and this… humanlike.

 

Johnny sat down in the armchair in the corner and stated that he had only swiftly read Louis’ chart. Therefore he didn’t really know anything other that Louis clearly suffered from post-traumatic stress. So Louis told him the events of the night before. T

 

o his relief, he noticed that it was so much easier telling the story without the shame of having such weird reaction weighing him down.

 

Yesterday Louis had had the support of two friends, and it still was difficult admitting out loud that he had cried like a toddler after reading some stupid text. Today Louis knew that his reaction was nothing out of the ordinary, that it was expected even, given the circumstances.

 

“Why haven’t I known that I have PTSD?” Louis asked, looking expectantly at Johnny. “I mean, why haven’t I had these kinds of flashbacks before?” He clarified.

 

“As usual, there could be a number of reasons. I know we have discussed the possibility of PTSD before, given that you do have a lot of symptoms typical for it. My guess is that you have had flashbacks and masked the symptoms with drinking. Or drank away the memories of the symptoms.” Johnny answered. “If I remember correctly, you were actively drinking when the abuse happened?”

 

One therapy session, not too long ago, had been dedicated to the fact that Louis spent years in a relationship with an abusive partner. One specific occasion had come up, and it was the first time Louis had talked so openly and detailed about being abused.

 

Louis nodded. “Yeah, I was drinking during most of our relationship. Always got shit for it.”

 

“Could you have blacked out, not remembering symptoms? Or maybe not recognising symptoms back then?”

 

Louis nodded again.

 

“Do you recall your drinking habits corresponding to the abuse?” Johnny always had an abundance of questions.

 

“Like, if the beatings and yelling and blaming always came because I drank?” Louis felt his cheeks heat up and the familiar shame starting to creep up.

 

“No! No, Louis. I didn’t mean to imply that the abuse would have been brought on by your actions and behavior. Abuse is never the victim’s fault. Ever.” Johnny was quick to correct Louis’ misunderstanding.

 

“What I meant was, did you drink excessively before the first time you were abused? Or did the abuse happen first, and then your drinking habits changed for the worse?”

 

Louis had never thought of that. He had thought of what came first regarding a lot of his behaviors in relation to the atrocities he’d lived through in his life. He’d spent so much time trying to figure out what was cause, what was reaction and what was result, that he couldn’t think about any of it without getting dizzy. But he had never thought about if his alcoholism developed before or after he got into an abusive relationship. This was an overwhelming thought.

 

“I don’t really know.” Louis said, trying fervently to remember his youth. 

 

“Joseph and I met when I was seventeen. I was fresh out of a relationship with my first real love. We had only been broken up a little over a month. I had been partying a lot during that month, but my drinking habits before the breakup were basically non existent. Sure, I drank sometimes at parties and such.”

 

Louis shifted uncomfortably on the bed, eyes set firmly on a spot on the floor.

 

“Joseph and I met at a party, of course. I knew of him before that, but we had never really met or talked. I found him exciting. He was older. A proper grown up with a car and a job and a flat of his own. I wanted to try that.”

 

Louis didn’t remember how frequent the drinking was in their early relationship. He did, however, remember that he started skipping school a lot after meeting Joseph.

 

Johnny was scribbling in his notebook as Louis continued speaking.

 

“The first time… uh... h-he…” Louis paused, drawing a few deep breaths.

 

“The first time was shortly after we had moved in together. Maybe four months into the relationship. I think it was about the same time I dropped out of school. Maybe?” 

 

His voice was strained and quiet. “By the age of eighteen I definitely was an alcoholic.”

 

Louis was getting agitated. A whirlwind of emotions flowing inside him. His brain was debating if they should be let out and felt or shoved back to the usual spot in the blackness of nothing. 

 

He could feel his eyes filling with tears of anger and sadness, as he fought to keep the memory in the front of his mind.

 

It was so difficult to think about this. Not only because it had happened to him, but because he had been so young. He had asked for help, and not gotten any.

 

The first time ever. Louis remembered it clearly.

 

They had been drunk and fighting, Louis and Joseph. Joseph’s normally bright blue eyes had darkened in anger, to almost black, when he had pushed Louis against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs.

 

Louis had been in shock and in pain, not having the sense to move away when Joseph took a new hold of Louis and smashed him against the wall again. Louis hit his head several times before Joseph released his hold and let him sink to the floor.

 

Louis had cried and pleaded for him to stop. Joseph just climbed up and sat on his chest and took a solid hold of Louis throat, not hard enough to cut off his air supply but enough for it to hurt and leave marks.

 

Eventually Joseph had let him up and Louis fled as fast as he could. He ran out shoeless, in the middle of the winter, and walked the ten minutes to his parent’s house in only his socks.

 

The more Louis thought about this, the angrier he got. He had told his parents what happened that night. It resulted in Louis’ father taking Louis back to make sure they reconciled. 

 

The two of them made the trek back with beers in their hands and mini bottles of whiskey in their pockets.

 

“Try to do your best,” Louis’ father had said.

 

“And try to be your best, so he doesn’t have to get angry like this.” His father had said.

 

“Otherwise dad will have to take measures and that’ll most likely put him in jail.” His father had said. With a smile.

 

That was the night Louis learned to drink whiskey.

 

* * *

 

Louis was trembling on that bed in the psych ward. Johnny had stopped taking notes and waited patiently for Louis to continue talking.

 

“I was seventeen, that first time.” Louis’ mouth finally managed to get out. Seventeen. That’s only a year older than Jonathan. How the hell did his parents let it happen?

 

Johnny nodded, unaware of the horrible betrayal whirling around in Louis’ mind.

 

“It sounds like it’s a possibility that your drinking was a symptom of post-traumatic stress. Do you want to talk about that first time now?” Johnny asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Okay. Now, about these flashbacks you had yesterday, was it one single event that came back?” Johnny continued his never ending stream of questions.

 

Louis shook his head. “No, it was different things from many different occasions.”

 

Johnny nodded and continued asking Louis questions about the trauma trigger and what followed.

 

Some things made sense, like when Johnny said that Louis’ choice of never watching the news or reading newspapers was most likely a symptom. Other things did nothing but create major confusion in Louis, like Johnny asking if Louis was aware of how much of Louis thought patterns was typical for a domestic violence survivor.

 

Johnny seemed to be very pleased when the session was coming to an end. He had previously shown his frustration over how difficult it was to find a treatment that worked with every of Louis’ diagnoses. Now he seemed to have found a solution to that.

 

“I’m thinking, how much of the symptoms we classified as social phobia, really are symptoms of post-traumatic stress?” Johnny said, probably more to himself than to Louis.

 

“How do we treat it then?” Louis asked. “I was told there were different ways of treating PTSD.”

 

“I think the best one for you is prolonged exposure therapy. I’ll email you information when I get to the office.” Johnny answered.

 

Soon, Louis was left with an assignment to decide which one of the assaults was the worst before their next regular appointment.

 

How would Louis know which one was the worst? The scale of mild to severe was apparently measured by how badly Louis wanted to avoid thinking and talking about the incident.

 

Louis groaned, knowing he had a lot of those.

 

* * *

 

Steve was waiting in the entrance area and had probably been there for an hour or so when Louis finally reached him. He went in for a hug, Steve’s mustache annoyingly tickling on his neck be damned. 

 

Louis really needed the comfort and closeness of a loved one, so they stood there, right in the open area for a long time, just hugging.

 

They were headed to the wide doors on the other side of the very large entrance hall when Louis suddenly stopped. He furrowed his brows and looked confusedly to the left.

 

At a few metres distance from Louis and Steve, a man was slowly walking forward with his head bowed down, looking at the phone in his hands.   

 

“Harry?” He asked with a clear and loud voice.

 

The man stopped and looked up and around with a perplexed expression in his face. It was Harry. 

 

Louis certainly didn’t expect to run into him here, but he changed his course and started to walk towards Harry.

 

“Louis! Hi.” Harry said smiling goofily once he saw Louis approaching.

 

For the second time that day Louis went straight in for a hug. Steve nudged Louis shoulder and Louis let go of the hug and made introductions.

 

Steve looked a bit worried. But who could blame him, this business of going around hugging people freely was so unlike Louis.

 

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked Harry, who looked a bit guilty at that question. Cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he smiled sheepishly.

 

“I had an appointment about renting an office space for counseling.” Harry said, smile growing larger and more confident.

 

“I… ehm... I moved here.” He told a stunned, wide eyed Louis.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. The hard part is done for now. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. <3 Please leave a comment! 
> 
> The next chapter contains a little bit of angst and sadness, but it's a lot happier. It will be up later today, if past updates are anything to go by. :)


	6. The Dinner Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly a trigger free chapter, as I see it. There is some angst and sadness, but nothing that requires a warning in my opinion. 
> 
> Please let me know if you feel a warning is needed. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> It’s Time - Imagine Dragons  
> Wicked Ones - Dorothy  
> The Sound Of Silence - Disturbed  
> Flowers In December - Mazzy Star
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

 

It was always impressive how many people could fit in the kitchen. Normally it was a tight squeeze for the three that lived there, yet it could house up to ten or twelve people on occasions like these. Amazing.

 

The large grey table in the middle of the dining area took up most of the space. And with the heavy sideboard - painted in the same smoky grey as the dining table - wedged in behind it against the back wall, there was not much room for all the mismatched chairs, let alone people sitting in those chairs.

 

The kitchen was Louis favorite room, with it’s light green and grey color scheme that Rose had helped him with. She always watched each and every one of those shows about interior design.

 

Louis was a big fan of shopping in thrift stores. Not only was it cheap, but he also felt that he was taking a step back from consumerism - and possibly saving the planet a bit - by doing his purchases second hand. Apart from the kitchenware that they used for cooking and eating, there was nothing in Louis’ kitchen that was brand new. And Louis was very proud of that.

 

They were all here, in the rather small but oddly spacious kitchen. Everyone were dressed in their shiny, sparkly new year’s attire, happily conversing whilst setting the table and preparing for the feast.

 

This was his family. His chosen family. Louis stood leaned into the doorway and watched them all carefully as his chest filled with overwhelming gratitude. 

 

How lucky was he to have them all in his life? He couldn’t imagine life without them.

 

Jonathan and Niall had a lively conversation about their common interest in sports in which you would hit a ball with a stick. If the current topic was golf or floorball, Louis didn’t know. But if Niall’s enthusiastic arm gestures - with a stack of cutlery in hand - was anything to go by, their discussion revolved around golf. 

 

Louis would have his poinsettia pots knocked down from the windowsill if he didn’t ask them to move away soon.

 

Rose sat at the table. With fire in her eyes, she was explaining feminism to a wide-eyed Liam. His puppylike brown eyes just blinked at her, astonished, the pile of plates clearly forgotten on the table. 

 

No doubt he was just as amazed as Louis usually was when Rose went on one of her very passionate and very informative rants. That girl was going to change the world, Louis was sure of it.

 

Liam’s two year old daughter was in a high chair beside Rose. Her small, cute curls were drawn back in a little ponytail, and she seemed quite content with entertaining herself by  drawing small dots and lines on a piece of paper with the red crayon in her hand.

 

Steve was in charge of heating up all the food that needed heating. His pregnant wife - with her tiny, four month bump that was just starting to show - sat on a chair by Steve’s station at the stove. She was smiling at something Steve said and sipping on a glass of non alcoholic bubbly.

 

This was a tradition of theirs. Every new year’s eve they would throw a small private party. Just the four best friends and their families. Sometimes the participants changed, girlfriends and boyfriends came and went, and not all children were attending every time.

 

They’d dress in proper fancy clothes, much too formal and glamorous for a simple dinner party at home. They would take turns hosting and everyone would bring something to the three course meal it always was.

 

This year was easy on Louis. It was his turn to provide the starter course. He made avocado soup with shrimp. It was fun and easy, just mix some avocados with cream and it’s done. It looked disgusting, all bright green and slimy looking, but it tasted great. Louis had poured the soup in high dessert glasses and topped them with a few shrimps each. They would eat with long spoons. Even funner.

 

Everybody stilled when the doorbell rang. They all looked up and glanced around the room with their mouths hanging open and eyebrows raised high. Nothing but surprised expressions all around. Then they all simultaneously turned to Louis. It was quite comical to watch.

 

“Aren’t we all here?” Niall asked, scrunching his nose in confusion.

 

Louis felt this tingling in his chest and stomach again. Sometimes the butterflies - that Harry apparently had planted in Louis’ stomach without his consent - escaped their confinement and got a short moment of free range within Louis torso. Fluttering around, giving Louis all kinds of dangerous ideas.

 

But Louis was conflicted. As much as he longed for someone to love and for someone to love him back - in that soulmate kind of way - he had a lot of fear in him still. And he had newly-gained knowledge of just how fucked up he really was. How could he pursue a relationship with someone? And someone so very gorgeous at that? It probably wasn’t possible for him to be in a relationship ever again.

 

So the butterflies needed to be weighed down. Put back in their prison until further notice.

 

“I might have invited a... ehm... a someone.” Louis scrambled for an explanation, feeling the blush creep up on his cheeks.

 

“A new friend, of sorts.” he said as he smoothed down his dress pants and went to open the door.

 

No need for butterflies. This was just a new friend. A new addition to their group.

 

* * *

 

Harry stepped inside with happiness and curiosity twinkling in his eyes. With a gentle smile, he handed Louis a bouquet of glitter decorated pink flowers and a small paper bag of something sugary smelling.

 

Louis must have looked at the flowers weirdly, since Harry started to explain why he brought them. 

 

“I know it’s customary to bring a bottle of wine to the host of a party, but I know you don’t drink… so the flowers are a stand-in for wine,” he beamed.

 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

 

Yes, Louis knows that it’s a bit irresponsible to invite someone who’s practically a stranger into his home. Especially with all the kids there and everything. But Louis still has this feeling, okay? 

 

Besides. Who could he hurt? He brought glittery flowers. Harry’s not going to harm anyone.

 

This was the first time Louis saw Harry wearing something other than hiking pants and boots. So maybe he was a little too obvious when he let his eyes wander up and down Harry’s lean body, as he checked out him in his fitted dark dress pants and black silky shirt that sat snugly over his broad shoulders.  _ Oh god. _

 

Louis turned and nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen, to show Harry to follow him further into the flat.

 

“You have a beautiful home, Lou.” Harry voiced as his eyes wandered and took in the details of the flat. “Great energies.”

 

_ Lou. _

 

Louis fought the urge to giggle like a blushing teenager. Instead he smiled and peeked carefully in the bag in an attempt to avoid the nickname and the cute, fuzzy feeling that was attached to it.

 

“Did you make these yourself?” He asked with surprise in his tone as they stepped into the kitchen.

 

Harry nodded. “I did, they are gluten free, organic, vanilla cupcakes.” His face shining with pride as he added “I used to work in a bakery.”

 

Louis hummed and gave him a small smile in acknowledgment and turned to see everyone looking at them.

 

“Everyone, this is Harry. He just moved into town, so I invited him to join us.” Louis said and let everyone introduce themselves whilst he found a vase to put the flowers in.

 

* * *

 

By the time they sat down for dinner, Harry had merged seamlessly into the group. Louis admired his confident manners. The way he just asked questions and gave input without any hesitation or fear of saying the wrong things holding him back.

 

Conversation flowed easily and there was friendly banter going on between him and the lads. It was like Harry had always been there.

 

It was evident that the kids liked Harry too. And that the feeling was mutual. Harry liked all of them, Louis’ kids and Liam’s daughter, as well as the unborn one. He spent a long time gushing over the pregnant belly in the room.

 

Louis was horrified at first, remembering his sisters’ aversion to strangers touching their baby bumps, but Neyla didn’t mind. She was happy and glowing under the attention. Apparently not seeing Harry as a stranger at all.

 

Rose found a new favorite person in Harry the second he had made it clear that he too was a feminist. She was over the moon when he told her that not too long ago he’d participated in a workshop where they were taught to connect with their inner wild woman. Rose too wanted to find her inner wild woman and was bubbling with excited questions directed at Harry. 

 

A piece of broccoli came flying at Louis when he suggested that she was wild enough.  

 

At one point during their meal, Harry praised Louis for raising such beautiful and wise kids. In Harry’s opinion, they seemed to be an open minded family and Louis such an understanding father. 

 

Jonathan and Rose were of course beaming over the compliments and just as Louis was about to dismiss the praise, Niall cackled loudly.

 

“You have no idea, mate. It’s impossible for these kids to do something he wouldn’t accept.” Niall told him as he waved his fork around.

 

“That’s true. We’ve got a bet going on about which one of them will be the first to shock Louis and make him react with rage and disappointment.” Liam laughed, pointing between Rose and Jonathan. 

 

“Or at least some other way than with calm nods and interested follow up questions.” Steve added with amusement.

 

“And sometimes, with poorly concealed worry.” Rose added. Jonathan nodded in agreement and they all laughed at the accurate description.

 

“You should’ve seen the time Jon came home and told Lou he was into satanism. This one didn’t even bat an eye!” Niall exclaimed, pointing his thumb at Louis. “Most parents would have gone rabid at a statement like that. This one only went  _ ‘okay’ _ and then asked for more information.”

 

“Well, that’s because most parents let their preconceived notions do their reacting. Or they don’t think that much of their children.” Louis felt he needed to jump in and explain his motives before this turned into a conversation about him being an irresponsible parent who let his kids roam around freely. He didn’t want to defend his choices, not tonight and not to Harry.

 

“I know Jon. I know that he’s smart, he does research and thinks things through. He’s also kind and caring. There’s no way in hell that he would label himself as something that engages in harmful behavior.” Louis explained.

 

“What kind of a parent would I be if I was to let the common belief of satanism be in the way of me supporting my child? And what kind of message would I send to said child if I let my ignorance weigh heavier than his knowledge?” 

 

“As it turns out, satanism isn’t really about evil at all. In fact, I’d say the principles and rules satanists choose to live by, are mostly just common sense.” Louis winked at Jonathan.

 

“Yeah. Religious nuts should look into satanism and learn a thing or two.” Jonathan agreed, whilst discreetly moving his vegetables to the side of his plate. “Or a hundred.”

 

“I think it’s important for a parent to support their kids. Wholeheartedly. Selective approval is nothing other than emotional negligence and I’ve done enough damage already. I have a lot to make up for.” Louis voice cracked at the last word and he let his glance drop, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

 

“Family hug!” Rose declared, always picking up on other’s emotional state. Both her and Jonathan went quickly over to Louis and hugged him where he was seated.   

 

The whole time Louis spoke Harry was looking at him with so much adoration in his eyes. He was shining like the sun, all smiley with his teeth showing and everything. 

 

If Louis didn’t feel a strange sort of validation at this, he probably would have found it a bit creepy.

 

“That’s so great, Louis.” Harry broke the silence, and with that, the family hug. “It is within every person’s right to be as they are, feel as they feel, and explore themselves and the world in their own pace. No matter what age they’re at.”

 

Everyone at the table nodded their agreement. Of course Harry would understand. When had he ever shown Louis that he wouldn’t?

 

The rest of the evening, with it’s feelings of anticipation and the wait for midnight, was spent by playing board games. They divided into teams and went through different board games at an impressive rate.

 

More often than not Louis felt Harry’s eyes focusing on him. When he returned Harry’s gaze, he got a blinding smile from him. And whenever he got the chance, Harry stayed close to Louis. He was leaning in and giving him light touches on his arms and hands.

 

He noticed Harry’s reluctance to let go of eye contact and how he kept his attention on Louis by directing his questions to him.

 

Louis wanted so badly to be able to let himself play along in this flirting game Harry had going on. He wanted to be able to flirt back. To just let go of that suffocating hesitation that had found a permanent residence in him. 

 

Louis wanted so badly to believe that he could be worthy of participating in this game. Because Harry was truly magnetic. He was pulling Louis in. He could feel it, constantly. And he didn’t know how long he’d be able to resist.

 

Of course the others had noticed Harry’s obvious interest in Louis. Niall teased him whenever he got the chance. Steve and Neyla sent him pointed looks and thumbs up. And Liam pulled him aside and asked in a hushed voice if Louis was aware that Harry liked him.

 

* * *

 

When it was closing in on midnight, Louis started to usher everybody towards the door, to go outside to watch the fireworks. He was staying indoors, by himself.

 

“Why?” Harry asked while putting on his shoes.

 

“Dad is weird. He always wants to be alone at midnight.” Jonathan replied offhandedly and hurried out the door. 

 

Louis shrugged and made excuses about someone having to stay inside with the sleeping two year old that belonged to Liam.

 

But Jonathan was right. Louis had a weird thing about needing to be alone at midnight.

 

Once everyone had gone, Louis stepped out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks. It was about five minutes until midnight, but Louis’ tears had already started to announce the new year.

 

The sobs were ripped out of the depths of his chest so hard that it was physically painful.

 

It was always like this. Louis got so emotional. When he was younger, before he got the courage to choose alone time at midnight, he tried to keep all the painful sobs and tears locked inside with everything else. It was impossible, of course, and he had a hard time trying to at least keep the crying to himself.

 

It was liberating when he finally chose a good twenty minutes to spend alone every new year.

 

* * *

 

It was freeing standing on the balcony, letting go and letting himself break down. It was like he was floating in the dark night sky. He could hear people cheering happily, wishing each other happy new year. The bang of every explosion vibrated loudly, somehow it helped Louis release whatever sorrow he was letting go this time.  

 

Louis’ sobs had already calmed into an occasional sniffle when he heard the door open and felt a presence behind him. A gust of wind brought a delicious smell of spicy cologne to Louis’ nostrils and he knew the person stepping out on the balcony was Harry.

 

Harry came to stand beside Louis, leaning his elbows on the railing, mirroring Louis’ pose. “Hi,” he whispered, as if Louis was an animal in the wilderness that would startle if he raised his voice.   

 

“Hi.” Louis managed to respond, voice thick with emotion.

 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead, gazing at the fireworks that sporadically exploded in the distance.

 

Louis was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the intensity of Harry’s undivided attention on him. “Yeah. I just have these… um… these weird things.”

 

He paused.

 

As it had been from the beginning, Louis felt so comfortable with Harry. Sure, his insecurities were there and flared up regularly, but he wanted to tell Harry things. Louis could tell Harry things, didn’t want to withhold something just because he feared ridicule.

 

Starting with a deep breath, Louis continued.

 

“I get really emotional at midnight every new year. I’m not entirely clear on the reasons for that, but I need to be by myself and let it all out.”

 

“Do you want me to go?”

 

“No. I’m done for now.” Louis reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a tissue to wipe his nose with.

 

“I think this emotional state of mine has it’s roots in my childhood.” Louis guessed. “But I don’t remember anything really bad happening, that would explain this deep, heavy sorrow I always feel.”

 

Harry turned to watch Louis as he speaks. Hesitantly, he lifted his finger and carefully wiped away a tear that fell on Louis’ cheek.

 

Louis let him.

 

“I think it might just be the way things were when I was a kid.” Louis kept allowing his thoughts to be spoken.

 

“I remember being in the crowds outside, watching the fireworks. Mum and Dad were drinking straight from their bottles. The people around us were so happy, shouting ‘happy new year’ and saying they loved each other. Kissing at midnight and being, you know- loving and sincere.”

 

Louis spoke slowly. Harry listened intently, not asking questions and not pushing him to continue. Louis was grateful for that. Sometimes he lost his train of thought in the middle of a sentence or had difficulties finding the right words. Louis was so relieved that Harry didn’t stress him. He just waited patiently while he was searching for the right word to use. Louis thought it might be because Harry usually spoke kind of slowly too.

 

“Then Mum would always try to do that too. Show how damn loving and caring she was. Distributed hugs and kisses to everyone, like it was a natural thing for us.” Louis kind of wanted to laugh at the theatricality of it all. Or at least snort to signal how bizarre it all had been.

 

“It was so fake. Everything. There was never any sincerity in those hugs and kisses. Even the ‘happy new years’ and ‘I love yous’ were fake. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a New Year’s kiss that was loving and meant for me.” Louis said sadly, avoiding looking at Harry “I- I think that might be the source of my sorrow. The lack of happiness and love in my life.”

 

“Jonathan and Rose love you and I think they both would happily kiss you happy new year.” Harry said quietly.

 

Louis let out a watery chuckle. “But I’m shutting them out because of my fucked up life and fucked up way of dealing with this. I’m scared that I’m not able to love them like they should be loved. That my love is fake too. ”

 

Harry took a step closer and brushed Louis’ hair out of his eyes. “Hey. No… Louis. Those kids are loved.”

 

His gaze was so intense that Louis had no choice but to believe what he was saying.

 

“I’ve only known them for one evening and I can already tell, without a doubt in my heart, that Rose and Jon are so, so loved.”  

 

Harry’s voice was strained and urgent, like he really needed Louis to believe his words.

 

“And they know it. They know you love them. And they love you back. There’s so much love in this home.”

 

Louis nodded.

 

The intensity of this moment had him dizzy. Here he was, his usual sad self, crying his eyes out, with this handsome man telling him everything he needed to hear, while clearly feeling somewhat of an emotional turbulence himself.

 

_ What is happening? _

 

Louis’ silent question was answered by the one Harry voiced.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Louis was frozen for a few heartbeats. 

 

Then he slowly shook his head and watched the light in Harry’s eyes dim. 

 

Louis placed a hand on Harry’s cheek, let his thumb caress Harry’s jawline, and looked deeply in his eyes.

 

“I can’t... I can’t kiss you, Harry.”

 

Sadness was dripping off every word as he explained, “I don’t know if I want to… I don’t know if I  _ can _ be in a relationship beyond friendship. I’m afraid of a lot of things. Right now I’m afraid that you want things from me that I won’t be able to give you. And I don’t just mean the kiss.”

 

Louis shook his head wistfully and rested his forehead on Harry's firm chest. “I can’t. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

 

Harry said that he understood, and that Louis shouldn’t worry about it. They could be friends, of course.

 

He left shortly after and Louis could tell Harry was more hurt than he let on.

 

The lads all gave Louis looks of various degrees of disappointment. He would have to explain the balcony situation to them later.  

 

Harry’s parting words echoed in Louis head until he fell asleep that night.

 

_ “I can feel a special connection between us and I think you can feel it too. But that doesn’t mean we have to be lovers. I’d be really happy with us being just friends.” _

 

Lovers.

 

Happy.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions? Anything? 
> 
> Now, I know the comment button is functioning...


	7. The Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to look for triggers when I edited.   
> I don’t think there are any, though. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Sign Of The Times - Harry Styles  
> Delight And Angers - In Flames  
> Tears Of Pearls - Savage Garden  
> No Fear - The Rasmus
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

Harry closed his eyes with a loud groan and leaned his head back against the tree trunk. 

 

The last of the daylight was flickering through the high branches of the trees surrounding him. Soon, the only light he would have was the open fire on the ground in front of him.

 

It was Harry’s second night camping in the woods. After the disaster that was New Year’s, he’d fled out here - to the woods he got to know so thoroughly during his teen years, where he felt more at home than anywhere else. 

 

He didn’t care that it was January and most people considered it stupid to go camping this time of year. But he was used to being outdoors, all year round. Nature was his place of comfort, strength and clarity.

 

Harry was heavily berating himself for being so fucking stupid. He was a very straight forward type of person, and usually spoke his mind without much thought. He wasn’t afraid of letting his feelings and ideas shine through, no matter how weird. 

 

At least, that’s the view he used to have of himself.

 

When Harry had met a certain blue-eyed man it all changed. Not in a way that made him want to abandon himself and his values, but so that he could keep this wonderful man in his life. It was no longer important for Harry to lead by example and show the world that it’s perfectly okay for a man to follow their personal truth and stick by those beliefs.

 

Harry had toned himself down quite a bit. He still allowed his feelings to be on the surface, like he naturally did. And he let most of his thoughts about the universe slip out of his mouth. But he tried to stay quiet about the views he knew often raised the eyebrows - not in a good way - of whoever happened to be listening.

 

Harry didn’t want to scare this beautiful man away. So he cloaked himself. Made him appear a little bit dimmer and softer. Sanded down the edges that could be perceived as sharp and scary.

 

But don’t think that Harry deliberately lied to or deceived Louis, he was still his weird self. No, he just kept back a few of those parts that he was afraid would send Louis running before he even got to see the entire being that was Harry.   

 

There, in the silent, dark, calmness of the forest, Harry felt genuine fear for the first time in years. 

 

He was so afraid of losing Louis. This man with the gorgeous high cheekbones and the softest looking hair. The man who was badly scarred by life but still let his inner beauty and strength shine right through. 

 

He didn’t need any more burdens and Harry was not going to place any of those on Louis. On the contrary, he felt a deep desire to pick a few of Louis’ burdens off him. Or at least help him work through some of his issues.

 

The feeling of protectiveness was powerful. That concentrated need to shelter Louis was what drew Harry in. It was the strength of that feeling that made Harry want to be in contact with Louis at all times. It made him not care about looking like a needy fool, by always being the one to initiate contact and sending him messages way too often to be acceptable by society’s standards.

 

Harry had no doubt in his heart, nor his mind, that he and Louis were soulmates. He had felt it right from the start, when Louis first contacted him. There was a pull. Their first meeting had only solidified that. There was a sense of familiarity in Louis. Like they had always known each other. Which was a normal feeling when it came to your soul family.

 

Of course, not all soulmate relationships were of the romantic kind. Sometimes soulmates were friends or relatives. And not all soulmate relationships were meant to last forever, like the fairytales would have you believe. 

 

Sometimes, soulmates met for a short moment, and that was enough for both parts to fulfill their need for deep connection and love, so they continued to live their lives separately.  

 

Harry really hoped that his and Louis relationship would last a lifetime. He had also wished that it would be a relationship of the romantic kind. Harry would accept any kind of contact between them, but since he was extremely attracted to Louis, he would have preferred them to become boyfriends. Husbands. Partners for life.

 

But Harry just had to go and fuck it all up. All his toning down the crazy had been in vain and now he might end up losing Louis anyway.

 

No mantras of  _ ‘if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen’ _ helped to calm him down.

 

He had read into it too much and let his own desire dictate his actions. He had gotten carried away, read Louis all wrong and crossed who knows how many boundaries in his selfishness. 

 

How could he have been so stupid? Fucking fuck.

 

It looked like Louis didn’t return his feelings. Or maybe he did, to some extent. Harry didn’t think he had read the signs so incredibly wrong. But still, it was apparent that Louis didn’t wish for them to have a romantic or sexual relationship.

 

Harry sighed again and listened to the sounds of the forest. Leaves rattling in the wind.  Branches scratching against one another. A flock of birds flapping their wings.

 

Harry knew he was being unfair to himself. He had acted on his feelings and it hadn’t turned out as expected. This agony he was feeling, this fear and this cruel bashing of himself was something he needed to withstand, for now. 

 

Among the philosophies Harry lived by was ‘allow every emotion for as long as it’s naturally there’, ‘what you resist, persists’ and ‘do not judge your thoughts, they exist for a reason’.

 

Once the sun had fully set and the campfire started to go out, Harry decided it was time to go inside his small tent. He would sit and meditate for a while, and ask his guides and angels to help settle all these fear based thoughts he had.

 

This was Harry’s way of praying. This was also one of the things he hadn’t outright told Louis about, because he didn’t want his quirks to show.

 

Harry meditated daily, and when he felt the need to, he would direct conversations and requests for help and clarity to some of the universe’s entities, like spiritual guides, angels, nature spirits or sometimes even aliens and other kinds of energy beings.

 

He would then pay close attention to his thoughts and ideas the following days, as well as notice whatever else comes in his way. That’s how prayers were answered, Harry believed.

 

Prayer was never meant to be a one way communication type of thing. 

 

A common misconception was that you send off a prayer to God, the universe or whatever you call it, and then you sit back and wait. Just let go of your own responsibility and wait for everything to get magically fixed. 

 

No, when you pray you do it to gather strength, inspiration and insight. You pray to create calmness in your mind and body, so that you’re able to form sensible thoughts instead of whatever chaos normally resides there. You ask the universe to help you gain the ideas and motivation you need to fix your own problems.  

 

So that was Harry’s plan for the night. He’d sleep on it and hopefully wake up with some kind of idea of how he needed to proceed.

 

* * *

 

For several days Louis’ inner turmoil had been eating him alive. 

 

The were so many participants in the mess in his head that he couldn’t find a way out of the chaos. He didn’t know which side of the chaos he needed to look at, which angle was the best to begin with. The most pressing was the bit about hurting Harry.

 

Louis was adamant about not letting himself feel guilty over the act of declining Harry’s kiss. It was within his rights to reject any and every advance made by men, even the stupidly gorgeous ones. 

 

Too many times Louis had disregarded his own boundaries to please someone else. That would no longer happen, Louis had decided a long time ago.

 

In the weeks that followed New Year’s Eve, Louis was the one to always initiate contact with Harry - quite different from their usual communication habits.

 

Harry had apologised for his abrupt departure and for making Louis uncomfortable. They had met for lunch a couple of times, and there was no damage done to their… whatever the thing was between them.

 

He was still as kind, understanding and wonderful as ever and Louis still felt so, so comfortable around him. 

 

Harry was using some kind of sorcery to accomplish that, Louis was sure.

 

Harry understood that Louis’ interpretation of their connection wasn’t the same as his, and he had said that he would respect and accept Louis decision if he didn’t want anything beyond friendship with Harry.

 

And that was the issue, wasn’t it? What  _ did _ Louis want?

 

Amongst all the different fragments of fear that Louis always carried with him, there was this bold, adventurous side that very much wanted to come out and play. It wanted to throw caution to the wind and just see what happens. No worries.

 

A very large part of Louis did want to kiss Harry. That time on the balcony, as well as every other time Harry was in the vicinity. He wanted to be close to him and to feel his muscular arms holding him tight. He wanted to run his hands down Harry’s firm abs, squeeze his hips and maybe bite his collarbones a bit. But it all seemed so profoundly unattainable, even when Harry clearly was asking for a kiss.  

 

Everything would be so much easier if only fear - Louis’ loudest demon - could shut up. It was fear that complicated everything. It was fear that had made Louis’ decisions that night. And the moment he had rejected Harry, he hurt himself just as much he hurt Harry.

 

His grounds for the rejection wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was fear.

 

Louis was so afraid of being hurt again, both physically and emotionally. 

 

He was terrified that he would once again watch himself become someone’s second (or third, or fourth) choice. He didn’t need any more demonstrations of him not being good enough for someone.

 

He also feared losing the bits and pieces of himself that he had found so far on this healing journey of his.

 

Most of all, Louis was scared of what was coming. He was about to undergo a treatment he knew very little about. There was no telling how life would be during and after the treatment. It was unfair on Harry to start a relationship at this point. 

 

Besides, he needed to focus on his kids. They deserved Louis’ undivided attention, or as much of it as he could give them. Who knew how much this treatment required of him and how much was left for the kids.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know Lou, do whatever you want!” Erin’s exasperated tone resounded in the emptiness of her half-furnished, newly-moved-in kitchen. “Follow your heart. Listen inwards. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

 

Erin was the one of Louis’ siblings who was closest to him. In age and otherwise too. There was a special bond between the two of them. There was understanding and comfort between them, sometimes without either one of them saying a word.

 

They had experienced the same things when they were young. Louis had been the protector and Erin the scapegoat. Both trying to keep the other siblings safe. They had the same scars.

 

Where Louis had fled to drinking and abusive partners to dull his pain, Erin had just fled. Physically. As soon as she could, she moved out of town. 

 

First, she moved around to different towns in England. When that didn’t satisfy her, she took on the world. Lived for two years in Thailand before she came back to Europe and worked as a tour guide in Greece and Spain. 

 

Then she got pregnant and moved back home. Louis was with her when she gave birth. That’s how close they were.

 

“I know that. But what would  _ you _ do, if you were in the same situation?” Louis set down his cup with a bit more force than he’d meant to and looked expectantly at his sister. 

 

Wasn’t it better if someone else told him what to do in the Harry situation?

 

“I would go for it. But then again, I always throw myself on whoever shows some interest in me. Always looking for acceptance and shit. I’m not strong, like you.”

 

Louis felt his ‘what ifs’ rise to the surface again. There were so many ‘what ifs’.

 

“But what if I can’t handle being a boyfriend? Then I would ruin everything and not get to keep any part of Harry. What if we’re just meant to be friends?”

 

“What if everything turns out to be perfect? What if he’s your soulmate and can give you everything you need?” Erin countered. 

 

“Don’t you think you deserve the chance of having someone like that?”

 

Erin was right, of course. Louis did deserve that.

 

* * *

 

The next time Louis had the conversation about Harry, it was with his kids.

 

Last time he had dated, Jonathan and Rose were so young, so he had kept the relationship from them until he knew it was going somewhere. 

 

Now that they were old enough to understand these things, Louis felt it would only be fair to include the kids from the beginning and ask for their opinion. He was hesitant of what kind of relationship he wanted with Harry.

 

It was during one of their Tuesday dinners.

 

Each Tuesday the kids were home was dedicated to spending time together, as a family. They would cook dinner together, eat, and then do something together - be it homework, watching a film, playing a game or just sitting and talking things through.

 

Phones and tablets were forbidden on Tuesday evenings.

 

“You kids remember Harry, right? The one who was here on New Year’s.” Louis asked as he was handing the rinsed light green plates to Rose, who put them into the dishwasher. “What did you think of him?”

 

“He was so cool! When are you going to invite him over again? I need to talk to him about that wild woman thing.” Rose squealed.

 

Jonathan raised his eyes from his notebook on the kitchen table. “I guess he was alright. I didn’t really talk to him that much. Why do you ask?”

 

Louis felt his cheeks heat up. Clearing his throat to mask his weird embarrassment, he explained “Well, I... I was thinking about maybe asking him out on a date.”

 

Rose squealed again and flung herself at Louis for a hug. She was her usual self, radiating emotions all over the place.

 

Jonathan was just nodding and grinning widely. “I don’t think either of us would be opposed to you dating someone, Dad,” he said and pointed between himself and Rose with the pencil in his hand. 

 

“Besides. This Harry dude seems nice enough. I’d say go for it.”

 

Pride was flaming in Louis’ chest at the understanding tone of Jonathan’s words. He was so, so proud of his kids and at the love they were capable of showing.  

 

“Proud of you, Dad,” Jonathan added before turnings his attention towards his homework.

 

* * *

 

The dishwasher was humming in the background as they all sat at the table, alternating between homework and talking about whatever topics came to mind.

 

Louis loved Tuesday dinners. He felt like a good parent then, like he was doing right by his kids. Giving them his time and attention, as well as having them take breaks from their online lives - which by the looks of it, seemed pretty hectic and stressful at times.

 

Suddenly Rose sat up straight - like a meerkat on guard - eyes wide and excited as she burst into bubbly questions. “Ooooh! what’s his last name?”

 

“Whose?”

 

“Harry’s, of course! I need to know, so I can ship you!” She clarified.

 

“What? His name is Harry Styles.” Louis was not understanding her statement.

 

Rose scribbled in her notebook and mumbled something like “What would your ship name be…”

 

Louis looked at Jonathan, eyes pleading for clarification. The boy was clearly amused and explained the concept of shipping to Louis. Yeah, he knew this. Rose had talked about ships and merging names before.

 

A few moments went by in silence as Rose conjured this shipname of her’s. Maybe the Harry-sorcery was her doing.

 

“Your ship name is Larry Stylinson!” Rose declared proudly. “Ooooh! When you get married, you can change your last name to Stylinson!”

 

“Let’s not talk about marriage when we don’t even know if Harry wants to date me.” Louis tried to get her to simmer down.  

 

Jonathan snickered but Rose was having none of it.

 

“Can I change  _ my _ last name to Stylinson? Rose Stylinson… I like it!”

 

She started to fill her notebook page with her coveted name in squiggly writing. 

 

Rose Stylinson, Rose Stylinson, Rose Stylinson. She proceeded to write Jonathan Stylinson, Louis Stylinson and Harry Stylinson.

 

“We  _ soooo _ ship you, Dad Stylinson.” Jonathan laughed and Rose just vibrated with excitement and happiness.

 

God, Louis loved his crazy kids.

 

* * *

 

The rest of January was mostly that same type of limbo. Neither Louis nor Harry had made any more advances.

 

Louis was heavily leaning towards asking Harry out on a date, but he wasn’t really over all the obstacles his demons had set up.

 

Harry had been by to drop off a yoga mat for Louis to borrow. He had thought that doing a few yoga exercises might help Louis settle some of his anxiety.

 

As was his usual routine, Louis had his weekly therapy sessions with Johnny. Louis now knew what his treatment consisted of. He wasn’t quite ready to start that yet.

 

Louis had listed a few of the occasions he had been abused by his ex husband. Six of them. There were six times that were so horrible in Louis’ memory, that he didn’t even want to think about them.

 

During the therapy sessions since his hospital visit, Louis had disclosed these events with great difficulty. He had talked about them with as few details as possible and as quickly as he could manage.

 

When Louis felt he was ready, he’d begin with the worst one of the six and tell it to Johnny in as much detail as he could. They would record Louis talking and he would then have to listen to the recording daily, as well as visit the place where it had happened.

 

Prolonged exposure therapy it was called. Louis had seen a video of a rape victim going through the same treatment. It looked awful. To say Louis was nervous to begin this treatment was an understatement.

 

This was the calm before the storm, Louis could feel it in his bones. All signs pointed to the storm that was imminent. 

 

And suddenly Louis mind was made. If he was going to survive the coming months, he was going to need all the support he could get. He still couldn’t afford distractions, but keeping Harry at arm's length was more exhausting than allowing him near.

 

Harry was out of town visiting an old friend of his - Zen, or something - and wasn’t coming back until after his birthday. So Louis sent him a text.

 

_ Hey! So when you get back home, I want to skype you. ;)   _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal growth and all that, exciting stuff. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. What did you think?


	8. The Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:**  
>  Talk about abusive relationships.
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> All Of Me - John Legend  
> Sumer Son - Texas  
> Sober - P!nk  
> Over Again - One Direction
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

Louis was lazily rummaging around in his tiny bedroom, digging through pile after pile of notebooks. 

 

Of course he kept his notebooks in the bedroom. He was a writer. Everybody knew that all good ideas came at night, when you’re trying to sleep. Always. Louis didn’t make the rules, he just kept his books where he needed them.

 

Louis startled when there was a light knock on his bedroom door. Crouched down next to his bedside table - well, it really was an old rickety chair from the 1920s that had been given the job of a bedside table - he glanced over his shoulder. 

 

Steve was standing there with an amused smile on his lips. 

 

Louis huffed as he rose, letting go of the pile of notebooks (and other books) on the floor. His black sweats were hanging low on his hips, so perhaps half his arse had been visible to Steve just now.

 

“How did you get in? I thought you’d lost your key?”

 

“Someone’s annoyed.” Steve chuckled. “May I inform you that you live with this wonderful creature called Jon, who’s perfectly capable of opening doors?”

 

“Well, you scared me. Could’ve died of a heart attack right there.” Louis mumbled and continued to offhandedly rifle through his piles, picking up random notebooks here and there, and flipping through the pages.

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

Louis stopped and turned to face Steve again. “The list. What else?” He huffed, exasperated. 

 

As if Steve could read his mind and just know. Steve  _ should  _ be able to read his mind, now that Louis thought about it. They might need to practice that at some point.

 

“The purple one, with the dragonflies.” Steve pointed to the small shelf in the corner, where the described notebook was.

 

“I can’t stay, I was sent to pick up some clothes and then return with them and a tub of chocolate ice cream. But do you need to talk about… ehm, list related things?” Steve spoke slowly and his facial expression turned to one of concern. His dark mustache making it look like he was really, really sad. Or angry.

 

“No, I just need to look at the list so I can compare it to Harry.” Louis said as if it was just as self-explanatory as him looking for the list in the first place. 

 

He ambled off to the living room before Steve had the chance to respond. If he had a reaction to Louis’ statement, he didn’t express it.

 

“The box is over there.” Louis waved towards the doorway, where a small cardboard box was on the floor. 

 

“I don’t know what sizes or how usable the clothes are. Whatever you don’t want, just donate it. Or throw away. The kids already have a box each of saved baby clothes.”

 

“Thanks. Let me know if your nerves need calming.” Steve said with an exaggerated wink, took the box under his arm, and left.

 

Louis sat down and flipped through the pages until he found the list he was looking for. 

 

The list of desired attributes of his hypothetical future love. It was a two page list titled ‘The man of my dreams’. 

 

Oh my god. What was he, twelve? It felt so boyish, very childlike to have a list like this. But Steve had sworn last summer, that Louis needed to make this list and that it would help him. Now they would see, if it helped or not.

 

With Harry in mind, Louis started to go through the posts. 

 

_ A gentleman. _ Yes. _ Shows emotion. _ Yes, loud and clear.  _ Handsome and sexy.  _ Yes and yes.  _ Muscles. Tattoos. Humorous. Intelligent. Taller than me. Reliable. Manly. Respectful.Y _ es to all.  _ Likes to give me massages without whining about it. _ We’ll see about that.

 

The list went on about values and beliefs, traits and habits and interests. All of which applied somewhat to Harry, as far as Louis could tell. 

 

He had a fleeting thought that most of the listed attributes  _ did _ in fact apply to Niall too. But he was not going to go down that road.  

 

Okay. So Harry matched the list. It might be safe to ask him out then. Now that he had minimised the risk of damage and all that. 

 

Louis internally rolled his eyes at himself. Here he was taking useless measures and switching every possible mature decision for a juvenile act. 

 

Maybe he was twelve.

 

* * *

 

The thing was, Harry’s suggestions and ideas stuck with Louis. Somehow Harry managed to influence Louis’ thought patterns with his odd guru-like instructions.

 

A few nights after the yoga mat had appeared in Louis’ flat, he had a major revelation and now he needed to tell Harry about it.

 

Once you’re on a healing journey, apparently you heal on all levels simultaneously. 

 

Louis’ yoga mat revelation had lead to him to feel curious about skyping and selfies and everything camera related that he’d avoided in the past - meaning any situation where a camera was pointed at Louis.

 

That’s why he was about to skype for the first time. His laptop - along with a freshly made cup of herbal tea - was set neatly on the kitchen table. The lighting was better here than by the desk and the chairs were a bit more comfortable. Easier to relax in. 

 

Louis had checked beforehand that the lighting didn’t cast any shadows that made him look crazy. Or ugly.

 

He also hoped that while he was at it - treading the unknown, way beyond his comfort zone - he would find courage enough to ask Harry out on a date.

 

A curious “So... You’re skyping?” was the first thing out of Harry’s mouth when the call connected. He looked tired. He probably had missed a lot of sleep when he was away, celebrating his birthday.

 

“I… yeah. I’m trying new things. Letting go of my fears and all that.” Louis tried to sound more chipper and confident than he was.

 

“That’s wonderful, Louis. I’m so happy for you. How does it feel?” 

 

Harry looked… proud? Eyes shining and cheeks dimpling. He looked like Louis felt when he was proud of his kids.

 

“Well, I don’t feel comfortable here, like this. Seeing me... and seeing you seeing me. It’s weird.” Louis squirmed in the chair just to demonstrate. 

 

“But you seem so tired right now, Harry. We can do this some other time.” He offered. He didn’t want to bother Harry if he wasn’t up for talking.

 

“No, Lou… I’m fine. I want to talk to you.” Harry smiled easily. And it was a bit unfair, wasn’t it? Persuading someone with a smile like that.

 

“Okay, good. This feels different than I thought, being involved in a skype situation. I don’t really feel my anxiety at all, so that’s good!” Louis said, deciding to add some positivity into his whining.“

 

Fuck, he was always whining, wasn’t he? Always voicing his insecurities and craving validation. Damn it. 

 

Was that what his and Harry’s date was going to be? Louis whining and Harry being too polite to say anything about it?

 

When Harry just kept smiling like a loon, without commenting, Louis kept talking. 

 

“I actually have you to thank for this.” He made a gesture with his hand between himself and the laptop, dainty wrist flicking in the air. 

 

“You said that I should let the healing come to me. So I kind of did that.”

 

Harry brightened. “Tell me all about it. I love these stories where the divine orchestration is clear and visible.”

 

Louis shook his head fondly. Harry and his universe-god. He really liked how much faith Harry had in the divine scheme of things.

 

“You know how you get a song stuck in your head, and it just keeps playing and playing for weeks?” Louis began.

 

“Sure.”

 

“So, I’ve been hearing this one song… ‘All of me’. You know that one?” Louis asked and Harry just nodded. “It’s been playing everywhere for a few weeks. Inside my head and outside. All the time. It was so annoying.”

 

Louis grew animated as he started to tell the story. Adding both arm gestures and dramatic tone changes to his voice. “Like why the hell do I keep hearing the song when I don’t have anyone to give all of me to? You know?”  

 

“As if I needed to be reminded of how lonely and utterly single I am. What kind of cruel joke was the universe trying to pull anyway?” Louis said with an exaggerated pout.

 

Harry giggled and cooed at that. 

 

Louis was happy that he took it as a joke and didn’t notice the dead seriousness of Louis’ statement. Sparing Harry as many of the whiny moments as possible. Louis was going to make that his motto in life.  

 

“And then I remembered what you said about letting the healing come to me. And like…Was that it? Was that healing trying to come to me?” 

 

Louis was proud of this, all of this. Of thinking outside the box, of trying weird new things and all the other signs that he was getting better.

 

Louis noticed Harry fidgeting where he was sat. He was vibrating on the screen, like he couldn’t wait for Louis to stop talking so he could add something. His mouth was drawn to a enormous smile, bordering on manic. Dimples everywhere and crinkles in the corner of his eyes. 

 

Seriously, unfair with the gorgeousness. Did he have more teeth than a normal person? Louis tilted his head and watched the screen as he briefly tried to figure that out.

 

“Anyway. I thought I’d explore that. So I rolled out your yoga mat, put the song on repeat and sat on the livingroom floor just feeling the music. I even lit a candle. In case I’d get help from... you know… the candle spirits?” Louis made the statement a question to try to lessen the weirdness of his explanation.

 

To be fair, it kind of was a question. Louis didn’t know that much about new agey, hippie rituals, but he had felt that it was important to light a candle when he did his own small ritual.

 

Harry giggled again. “Candles don’t have spirits, but you were right to do that. Candle light helps with the energies and the atmosphere in general.”  

 

“Oh. Good.” Louis smiled, a little nervous.

 

“Anyway, when I had listened to the song a few times. I got this idea that-” Louis paused. Why was it becoming difficult to speak about this? He cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

“That all the meaning I was assigning to that song, all the love I want to give someone and all the love I would like to have from someone, I am supposed to give to myself.”

 

“So I kept listening. I kept hearing the melody, feeling the vibrations, listening to the lyrics and singing it over and over again. Until I could honestly say that every word was true, even when they were directed towards me.” 

 

Louis barely paused for breath. He felt nervous talking about this. He knew Harry wouldn’t judge him, but he was so out of his element here. He needed to get all this out quickly.

 

“That was so powerful. And so, so strange. It was like I could  _ feel _ the bricks falling down. Like I had been using a wall to shield myself, and it fell.” Louis stopped at this and glanced at Harry on the grainy screen.  

 

He had tears in his eyes. Harry was crying? Because Louis had strange experiences? 

 

Louis was alarmed. Oh god. This was too bizarre, even for a free flower power person like Harry.

 

Harry’s watery chuckle shook Louis out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts. “I’m so in awe of you right now, Lou. I wish I could give you a hug. This is massive.”

 

“Oh… well…”

 

“Do you know what you did?” Not letting Louis answer that question, Harry went on, “You followed your inner guidance, without allowing doubt and society’s conditioning to stand in your way.”

 

“That’s so huge. You’re so strong and brave, Lou... So brave! I hope you know that. You deserve to know that.” Harry sounded almost breathless.

 

Louis felt bashful at the abundance of compliments that Harry was sending his way. 

 

Even here he noticed a difference in his own reaction. Sure, it felt as awkward as ever to be showered with praise, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in that sharp need-to-escape-this way that Louis was used to.

 

“Thank you.” Louis smiled shyly. It was customary to thank someone that complimented you, right? 

 

“I.. I feel like I’m beginning to understand what self-love means. I’ve read about it so many times. Now I think I understand what all those books were trying to explain.”

 

“It is self-love!” Harry agreed enthusiastically. “And look at you, loving yourself enough to know that you are valuable enough to use technology like everyone else.” Harry’s gaze turned mischievous. 

 

Louis was thankful he was now allowed to turn this into a joking matter. It was too heavy for him, the feelings and all the attention being on him.

 

There was some light, friendly banter between them for a few moments, before Louis went ahead and turned it all serious again.   

 

He took a deep breath to gather courage. And with the exhale, Louis began reciting another one of these monologues he had kept running through in his head for much too long.

 

“You know, I also love myself enough to recognise what’s good for me. And to not let fear dictate my whole life.” Louis smiled. 

 

Now that he had Harry’s full attention again, he continued. 

 

“Harry, I... I really like you. And when you like someone, you ask them out on a date. So, would… wouldyougoonadatewithme?”

 

Harry looked shocked for a moment, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. Louis realised he had been holding his breath, when he loudly let it out. Louis watched Harry’s eyes soften first, then his whole face matched with an expression of fondness.

 

“I’d love to go on a date with you. I like you. Too. Lou.”

 

* * *

 

Louis stood in front of his full length mirror, getting ready for his date with Harry. 

 

He was all smiley and happy, now that he had finally decided on what to wear - black skinny jeans and a maroon t-shirt, with a neckline wide enough to show off his collarbones. 

 

He was enjoying the fact that he could actually look at himself in the mirror without the usual overshadowing feeling of disgust. He could appreciate his appearance. From some angles, he was quite beautiful, if he could say so himself.

 

In consideration of Louis’ social phobia, Harry had suggested that they should just stay at home for their date. Cook something together and maybe watch a film, if they felt like it. 

 

Harry apparently made a mean vegetarian lasagna, so he offered to bring ingredients for that.

 

The doorbell rang and all of Louis’ butterflies made their existence known. 

 

Harry was here. For their date. Louis hoped Harry would like his outfit. And this date. And… well… him. 

 

With a loudly hammering heart, Louis let Harry inside his flat.

 

* * *

 

It turned out Harry was telling the truth about his lasagna. 

 

What he had failed to mention, was that he was a lot of fun to cook with too. Harry had a myriad of cute little anecdotes about this lasagna of his. All of which he told Louis, along with other food related stories.

 

They were both joking around and being silly during the whole cooking experience. 

 

At one point Louis was laughing so hard at Harry’s scandalized look - which was brought on by Louis chucking a few pieces of chopped carrot at him - that he needed to sit down to prevent himself from peeing his pants. 

 

Harry then let his mock outrage turn into something soft and beautiful, as he watched Louis laugh and laugh.

 

There were longing gazes and timid, lingering touches between the two. Louis was so happy that they were allowing these little touches, instead of trying to hide everything away. A few times Louis had to stop what he was doing and just look at Harry. Enjoy his presence and admire how beautiful he looked in his tight black jeans and flower patterned, sheer shirt.

 

They stayed close to each other, spending a lot of time in each other’s space. Louis was glad he’d decided to wear cologne for once in his life.

 

* * *

 

When the dinner was eaten and the dishes had been put into the dishwasher, Louis and Harry made their way to the living room and sat down on the sofa, each with a steaming cup of turmeric tea placed on the coffee table.

 

Louis felt that now was the time he needed to make his intentions clear. He had postponed this particular talk so far, and now he felt like he was running out of time. He had told Harry bits and pieces of his mental health issues and some of the ‘whys’ and ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ of his life. 

 

Now he wanted to tell the full story.

 

Harry was sat cross legged on the sofa, facing Louis. His deep voice cut through the silence and he took Louis’ hands in his own.

 

“I really like being here with you, Lou. I’m having so much fun.” He kissed a couple of Louis fingers and Louis felt his cheeks blush and his hands tingle. 

 

“I can see that you’re nervous, so I’m going to tell you right now, that we’re going to take this slow. As slow as you need to, there’s no pressure. You don’t even have to worry about first kisses or anything tonight.” he finished with a grin.

 

“That’s not what I’m worried…” Louis stuttered.

 

Harry then interrupted him, “Now. I’m excited to hear if you have had any more of those healing discoveries.”

 

And Louis burst into laughter at that. This adorable, ridiculous creature. Where did he even come from? He squeezed Harry’s hand and thanked him for being so considerate.

 

“I think I’m discovering new things about me every day. Like I’m only now getting to know myself. Something I imagine most people go through in their early twenties at the latest.” Louis said thoughtfully, opting to look at the photographs lining his walls instead of at Harry. 

 

It felt safer, without the risk of seeing Harry’s reaction.

 

“I’m beginning to think that the person I thought I was does not exist. I feel like I’m connecting to that 17 year old boy I used to be, the one who never really got to live.” 

  
  


“I am building bridges and patching the holes that were created. Grieving the things that didn’t happen as well as some of the things that did happen.” Louis let the words tumble out of him.

 

“Like I’m healing everything, you know? There’s this strength inside. I can feel it so clear now, almost like it’s beginning to boil. I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s absolutely amazing.” 

 

“Now I’m able to look in the mirror, smile and like what I see. Now I can take selfies and even post them publicly.” Louis smiled and let everything he felt shine through. It was liberating, not having to mask or restrain anything.   

 

Harry, with his never ceasing ability to radiate kindness and understanding, held on to Louis’ hands and looked him intently in the eyes. “I know. I know what you mean.” he said “I’ve gone through similar experiences myself. I know the strength you talk about. Hold on to that. No one can ever take that strength away from you.”

 

And holding onto that strength was what Louis did as he continued with his agenda for the evening. Letting Harry in. Letting him see the vulnerable Louis. Letting him know the terms, as Louis so eloquently had labelled his baggage in his head.

 

“I’m curious about why you’re building bridges to your 17 year old self. Why 17?” Harry wondered.

 

Louis froze for a moment. Damn all these automatic reactions of his. Not shut down and raise high walls - open up and let in. Breathe in, breathe out.

 

“I’ve told you I’ve been married twice, right?” Louis began. He could feel his hands starting to tremble and his chest tighten.

 

Harry nodded.

 

“And I’ve told you that I’m a recovering alcoholic? And that there’s a few diagnoses in my baggage? Sometimes I don’t remember who I tell these stories to. If I feel inclined to tell, it seems I often shut off everything else in my brain in order to get the words out.”

 

Harry nodded again, worry evident in his eyes.   

 

“My first husband was abusive.” Louis said after a deep inhale and Harry gasped and visibly flinched at that. “I met him when I was 17. The abuse started shortly after.”

 

As usual, Louis got restless when he had to speak about things he rather not think about. He let go of Harry’s hands and reached for the lighter that was on the coffee table and lit the three purple, lavender scented candles next to it. 

 

Lavender was supposed to be calming and stress reducing, Louis had read. 

 

“Now that I’m somewhat healed,” he continued, “I have the idea that the image I had of myself back then, he confirmed with physical and emotional abuse.” 

 

“I was worthless. I knew that. And he kept telling me that. I already was a master at shutting off my needs and my emotions. And there, with Joseph, I wasn’t allowed to feel what I felt or think what I thought.”

 

“The drinking began and continued for many years after that relationship ended. I thought my second husband would be different, since his personality was completely different and I was older and ‘wiser’.” Louis kept speaking quietly. 

 

“I was wrong. He was never violent, but some of the emotional abuse was there. I was stupid and did everything wrong. I still believed that I deserved it and that I wasn’t worth any better. I was still drinking every day. At this point I was an expert in suppressing everything I felt and just putting on a facade. Going to work, being all ‘happy and healthy’, but always feeling like I really didn’t matter.”

 

With tears in his eyes, Harry watched in silence as Louis shakily got up from the sofa and proceeded to light more candles around the room.

 

“Drinking was my way of dealing with everything, it was my way of surviving.” 

 

“Why 17, you ask? In a way, it’s like I stopped being me when it all started. I distanced myself and suppressed everything. Then I kept me separate from myself with alcohol, you know? And I’m only now starting to find my way back, learning to live and everything all over again.”  

 

Harry wasn’t doing anything to hide the fact that he was crying. Louis admired him for the bravery it was to let tears fall as they wanted. He came to stand in front of Harry and reached down to wipe away a few of his tears.  

 

“I stopped drinking when my breakdown happened five years ago. It was the best decision of my life. And with alcohol no longer being part of the picture, every demon I had kept in place with it, started to make their appearance.” 

 

“When I stopped drinking I had to face the reality of all those things I never could or wanted to deal with before. Gradually I realised that none of the things I’d been through were normal.”

 

“Eventually I stopped making excuses and I could say out loud that I was in an abusive relationship.” Louis could hear the thickness in his voice, quite impressed with himself that he carried on with this. 

 

He was impressed with Harry’s never ending ability to listen too.  

 

“My depression got deeper and I started having a lot of anxiety and panic attacks. A few months later I was diagnosed with all my shit. Well… most of my shit. The PTSD is new.”

 

And that was a big part of his baggage. Harry now knew about nearly everything that had made Louis the way he was. If he was going to back out of whatever this thing between them was, now would be a good time to do that.

 

Louis was facing one of his bookshelves and gently adjusted some of the books so that they were all lining up with the edge of the shelf. He heard Harry move, but was still startled when he felt Harry step in close to his back and hug him. Louis placed his hands on Harry’s arm and leaned back into his embrace.

 

“I’m so sorry, Louis. So sorry.” Harry murmured and pressed his tear stained cheek to Louis’ shoulder. “Nobody should ever have to go through something like that.”

 

“Yeah. Almost a decade I stayed with him. I’m still dealing with the effects of the abuse.” Louis said quietly.

 

“This all is why I was- why I still am afraid of letting you kiss me. All this and what is to come is what scares me.”

 

“What’s coming?” Harry asked as he tightened his arms around Louis and pressed himself firmly against Louis’ back. 

 

Louis tried to keep his breaths even as he revelled in the feeling of safety and the sensation of another body against his.

 

“I have PTSD because of what he did to me. In a couple of days I’m supposed to start treatment. I’m so scared of it.” Louis admitted. 

 

In a barely audible voice he continued “I… I wanted to ask you... if you want to help me? You know, maybe just listen to me whine about the treatment?”

 

Harry spun Louis around and placed both of his hands on Louis’ cheeks and forced him to look into his eyes. Harry’s eyes were filled with determination.

 

“Of course, Lou! Anything! Anything for you. I am here with you. You can trust me to be here for you, until the end.”

 

Now it was Louis’ turn to let out a gasp. He spent moments shocked to silence. Heart hammering away, not believing the words he just heard. He must’ve imagined them. 

 

Harry couldn’t possibly have said the words that was almost identical to what Louis had told Steve he wished to hear. 

 

Louis eyebrows pinched together and he slowly shook his head. Eyes exuding a mixture of suspicion and amusement. Unbelievable.

 

“Have you been talking to Steve?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. It means a lot to me. <3 I'm so happy to finally be able to share this story.


	9. The Healing Song, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Massive trigger warning:**  
>  Abuse.  
> Louis is telling and reliving a traumatic memory, which is causing him enormous distress and anxiety.  
> Detailed descriptions of violence.  
> Descriptions of physical injuries.  
> Mentions of blood.  
> Guilt.  
> Neglect, betrayal, lack of support.
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, this is where the horror begins. As I made the final edit just now, I noticed that a lot of this chapter is quite incoherent. I am sorry for that, but it’s the best I can do right now. 
> 
> This chapter was really difficult to write and edit. Not only because of the shit I, as the writer, put our beautiful Louis through, but because this is something that actually happened to me.  
> 
>  
> 
>  Please stay safe. <3 If you need to skip this chapter, let me know and I’ll give you a short summary.
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Luka - Suzanne Vega  
> The Unforgiven - Metallica  
> Crawling - Linkin Park  
> Buried Alive - Avenged Sevenfold
> 
>  
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
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It was called prolonged exposure therapy, the treatment that he was about to undergo. The treatment that was about to become Louis’ personal hell for the coming months.

 

They had switched therapy day to Thursdays. It was supposed to make it easier on Louis, having therapy so close to the weekend, but still giving him time to process the session enough for it to not ruin the entire weekend.

 

For a couple of weeks his therapy sessions had been a preparation for this day, when they would start treating his PTSD. In addition to talking about the approach itself, Louis had listed all the incidents he felt were the worst. Each and every one of the attacks he had difficulties even thinking about.

 

The number was six. Six occasions. 

 

Six of the times Louis was beaten by his husband, were so horrible that he didn’t even want the fragmented memories to enter his consciousness.

 

And now he was supposed to talk about them, out loud. He was supposed to tell all the stories, in as much detail as he could, to another human being. To say Louis was nervous was an understatement. 

 

He was terrified to his core.

 

These stories had all been named to describe and separate the different incidents. And they were listed in order of severity. Starting with the worst and ending with the mildest, according to Louis’ estimation.

 

_ Aiden, balcony, bus, kitchen floor, locked in, hallway. _

 

The order was etched in Louis’ brain. He’d been manically repeating it to himself every silent moment for the past two weeks. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes as a result of his anxiety.

 

There was a common denominator for all the attacks that were qualified to the list, Louis knew that. 

 

They were all incidents where other people had known Louis was being abused. Either they witnessed it as it was happening, or they’d been informed of it afterwards.

 

All those times when the abuse had happened behind closed doors weren’t that serious in Louis’ mind - and there were a hell of a lot more than six of those. 

 

His distorted sense of truth was quite obvious. These beatings were easier to deal with when only Louis - and Joseph, of course - knew what was going on. That’s why his brain labelled them as milder. 

 

They didn’t really matter, those times that remained a secret he would never have to share with the world.

 

When people witnessed the abuse, it was an entirely different matter. Then there was a whole other level of humiliation, shame and guilt involved.

 

Shame was the worst. The shame of being beaten. Those times he was forced to show people how weak he was. He was forced to let them know that he was so worthless that he deserved a beating.

 

* * *

 

Louis’ nerves hadn’t allowed him any significant amount of sleep for the two nights prior to this day.

 

Harry’s good luck text that morning had probably been the only thing that got him up and out the door. Somehow, Harry gave him the will to get better, made him want to try everything there was to try, and really search for answers. To be better, to do better.

 

Louis was tired and scared as he sat down in the teak coloured wooden armchair he’d started to view as his own. After spending years in that same chair in Johnny’s office, it might as well be Louis’ personal one.

 

Johnny was understanding and didn’t noticeably rush Louis. He asked questions to get his mind off things, while he still eased in the necessary preparations. Had the drive over been uneventful? Did he have his phone with him? Did he have enough storage on his memory card for the recording?

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“No.” Louis answered before the question even had been fully asked.

 

Johnny gave him a reassuring little smile. “Can I do anything to make this easier for you, Louis?” He asked sympathetically from where he was sat opposite of Louis.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe turn off the lights?” Louis was stalling and he knew it.

 

Johnny got up from his chair - identical to the one Louis was sitting in - and flicked the light switch. 

 

There were two large windows behind him, so the room didn’t really get any darker. But oddly enough, Louis found comfort in the lights being switched off. There was always comfort in darkness. Apparently, the mere thought of darkness provided that same sense of solace and security too.

 

Louis felt his whole body tense and his heart rate increase in panic when Johnny asked him to start the recording and put his phone on the table. As he did as he was told, he could hear the blood flow whooshing in his ears. 

 

Perhaps luck would be on Louis’ side this morning and he’d die before he had to talk.

 

He forced away the thoughts of an escape route. His mind torn between aborting the entire mission and the hopeful little whisper that reminded him that no matter how awful, this might actually be of great help.

 

“Now if you just close your eyes and when you’re ready you can start from the beginning of the memory and tell it as detailed as possible.” Johnny instructed calmly as he clicked his ballpoint pen and secured his grip on the notepad in his hand. 

 

“Talk in the present tense, as much as you can.”

 

Louis nodded, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, but remained silent for a long time.

 

Yes, he was waiting for Death in his emo-styled hood and sharp pointed tools to come to his rescue.

 

“I… I don’t know how to start. I don’t know what the beginning is.”

 

The chair creaked as Johnny shifted his position and leaned forward a bit. “What were you doing five minutes before the incident?” he asked.

 

Louis took another deep breath. Breathing was good, right? Breathing he could do.

 

“Walking home from the pub.”

 

“What is the weather like?”

 

“Cold. It’s dark. There’s small piles of snow here and there.”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

“Ye-Yes… sort of...” Louis scrunched his face and tilted his head, as if the memory would become clearer. “Joseph is there, walking behind me… He isn’t with me, but he’s following me. I think I’m trying to get away from him.”

 

“Why are you trying to get away from him?”

 

“I don’t want to be with him. Don’t want to go home. There’s going to be a fight. We’d been fighting at the pub. I wasn’t at the pub with him either. He came there.”

 

Louis could hear Johnny making notes. Always scribbling in that notebook of his.

 

“I wonder where Jon was? If I was at the pub, he should have been at home with Jon.” Louis added as an afterthought.

 

“What happens next?”

 

“I’m crossing the street. Not taking the usual way home. Making it clear that I’m not going home.”  

 

“Aiden is a bit further from where I was. He noticed me and waited for me. I want to go with him.”

 

“Who’s Aiden?”

 

“A friend of mine. Or a co-worker really. We were talking at the pub. And flirting. I… ehm… I have a bit of a crush on him and maybe that’s why I want to go with him.” Louis stated, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. 

 

He had just admitted to the cause of the beating that would come.

 

Louis talked slowly. From his point of view he was hesitating and stumbling over words. His whole inner being sending off signals of distress and telling Louis to shut up, just shut up.

 

It was getting harder to keep everything at bay. Still, Louis was sure he needed to do this, that was just as clear as the need to stop it all and just flee.

 

“But I also think that I’m hoping for him to protect me. Hoping for him to be that person that finally steps in and puts a stop to Joseph’s ways. We weren’t together here, me and Joseph. I was going to move out. I had my own flat ready and everything. We weren’t together.”

 

“We weren’t together.” he repeated and shook his head.

 

Louis was barely aware of the words he spoke, rambling on with his need to explain that he wasn’t cheating. He wouldn’t, no matter how many times he was accused of it. Fingers anxiously picking on the hem of his sleeves, his nails and everything he could get a hold of really.

 

A feeling of sadness was enveloping his whole body. He knew this emotion now, had gotten to know it intimately over the years.

 

“I walk with Aiden for a bit. We’re almost at his flat. I hope we can make it there. I hope Joseph would just give up the chase and leave.”

 

“Does he?” Johnny asked when Louis had been silent for a long while.

 

His automatic mechanisms and well rehearsed survival methods were making sure his brain stayed empty. He’d lost his way and didn’t know how to pick up the story again.  

 

“No. He caught up to us a few gateways before Aiden’s.” Louis sighed hopelessly. “Aiden keeps walking and I stop to argue with Joseph.”

 

Again Louis was silent for a long time. Taking deep breaths, trying to keep himself together. 

 

Tears were slowly flowing from the corners of his closed eyes. Louis could feel himself shaking. At first he thought it was because of the exertion of keeping himself from falling apart right there and then. But he slowly realised his body was fully immersed in the memory. He was shaking from the cold of that night, and from the anger and fear he had felt that night.

 

“Is it possible for you to continue, Louis?” Johnny asked gently.

 

“Mmm…I already know what’s going to happen. I’m switching to anger. I have to...”

 

“What is going to happen?” Johnny wondered.

 

Louis was in no way capable of calling the act by it’s name. Never ever had he told anyone outright that he was abused, that he was beaten. 

 

Sometimes, when he was feeling exceptionally brave, he could admit to himself that he’d been a victim of domestic abuse. When he spoke of this to someone, he’d always talk about Joseph or the relationship. He’d say that his ex husband was violent. Or - on those days he felt extra brave - he could mention that he once was in an abusive relationship. But he’d never say that  _ he _ was abused. 

 

There was a distinct line between him being married to someone abusive and him being beaten. And Louis was not about to cross that line anytime soon.

 

“What always happens when he gets that way.” Louis said, expertly sidestepping the subject. 

 

“So I scream at him to go home. Might’ve shoved him a bit. I have to be angry… I have to.”  

 

Louis gathered every piece of strength and courage available, and hoped it would last until the end of this shitty memory. Then he launched himself into another series of explanations.

 

“I start walking towards Aiden, he is waiting for me outside his building. Joseph tries to stop me. Pulls me back several times.” Louis shook his head. “Oh god. Why did I do that? I should have gone home quietly.”

 

“Suddenly Aiden is there, trying to get Joseph off me. I don’t know how. Joseph shoves me away, really hard… I fall backwards.”

 

“Do you hit the ground?” Johnny asked.

 

“Yes. There was this girl there, I don’t know where she came from. I think it was Aiden’s neighbor, or something. She told me afterwards that I had lost consciousness and that I laid on the ground for a long time. Which is really weird. Because as far as I know, I fell and got right back up.”

 

Louis was getting agitated again. He had to take several deep breaths. His body ached and he felt so confused. It was weird bringing back the memory like this. 

 

On one hand, he watched the memory like a film that played in front of his eyes. On the other hand, his body was experiencing everything just as physical and real as it had been all those years ago.

 

“When I sit up again, it hurts all over.” Louis sat there on the wooden chair in a safe room and lifted his hands in front of him. He still had his eyes closed, but he turned his hands in front of his eyes like he was inspecting them.

 

“I have cuts and scrapes on my hands. There’s some gravel stuck to this one…” He said as he patted his palms together to get rid of the gravel stuck to his right palm. He could hear the small pieces of rock fall to the ground.

 

“There are bruises here and here. Large ones.” Louis showed by patting his right hip and then gesture to his right elbow and arm. “They were there for weeks afterwards.”

 

“And I’m bleeding. Oh god, I can feel the swelling. I’ve hit my head and it’s bleeding. I have a huge bump. Here. It’s pulsating.” Louis cupped his hand and hovered it over the tender place on the back of his head, slightly behind and above his right ear. He felt the pain of the injuries as if they were fresh instead of ones he’d gotten a good twelve-thirteen years earlier.

 

“What do you see when you get up?” Johnny was encouraging Louis to go on with the story.

 

“Aiden and Joseph are at the entrance of Aiden’s building.”

 

“What are they doing?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to look. I can’t see.” Louis shook his head vigorously, squeezed his eyes so they were more tightly shut than before. A fresh batch of tears streamed down his reddened cheeks at the movement. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and face directed towards the floor. It was getting difficult to breathe again.

 

“Louis… Look at the entrance of the building. What are they doing?”

 

Louis was on the verge of losing it. It took everything he had to straighten back up again. With much effort, he rolled his shoulders back and focused on his breathing. 

 

Deep breaths. In and out. Eyes still tightly closed, he slowly lifted his chin and faced forward, like he was looking at the scene playing out behind his eyelids.

 

“It’s difficult for me to see the entire picture,” he explained and shifted on the creaking chair. 

 

“I know they’re fighting, but I can’t see that.” He continued to nervously fiddle with the long sleeves of his sweater, as he had done during the entire recording.

 

“What can you see?”

 

“The light behind them, in the stairwell. It’s really bright. Blurring everything.” Louis tried to describe why it was hard to see.

 

Back in his mind, he understood that his brain was blocking the vision, distorting things to shield him. The light hadn’t been that bright. 

 

They had talked about these things happening, Johnny had explained how the brain sometimes had these reactions to trauma.

 

“Do you hear anything?”

 

Louis stilled his breath for a bit and listened. “No. It’s completely quiet. Strange. I should hear them fighting.”

 

“Someone’s wearing a brown leather jacket. There are glasses on the ground, Aiden’s glasses... And there’s blood. A bloody hand holding on to the door frame. Gripping tightly.” Louis managed to get the words out after another long pause.

 

“Whose hand?” Johnny asked.

 

“Aiden’s.”

 

“Why is it bloody?”

 

“He’s bleeding.” Louis scoffed. Oh my fucking god. Wasn’t that obvious?

 

Before Johnny could ask why he was bleeding, Louis continued. “From his nose, I think. Or maybe mouth… He might have a cut below his eye. I don’t know.”

 

“Oh god. Why-  _ why _ ? It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have- Why didn’t I just go home? Oh my god! I need to fix this!  _ How _ do I fix this?” Louis’ guilt was completely taking over.

 

It was maybe the hardest part of the entire memory. He had gotten someone else beaten. And it didn’t matter how much logic tried to intervene and point out that it was not Louis doing the beating, therefore it wasn’t his fault. But Louis felt responsible. He’d always felt responsible for what happened to Aiden that night.

 

“Louis… Hey… Calm down.” Johnny’s soothing voice was coming through Louis’ frenzied panic. “Breathe, just breathe….we’ll leave that for now. Could you continue?”

 

It took Louis a while to calm down. But he continued talking about how there suddenly was an ambulance and Aiden was taken care of. He didn’t know where Joseph had gone, but he knew he wanted to get away and he still wasn’t going home.

 

Louis remembered walking towards his parent’s house and when he spoke about entering their flat, there was another peak of anxiety. It became apparent for Louis - and probably Johnny too - that the situation at his parent’s was just as traumatic of an experience as the violent part.

 

“My youngest sister was the only one still living at home. She was asleep, and so was Dad, but Mum was awake.” Louis said quietly, defeated as the feeling from that night made it’s way through his body.

 

“Mum’s first words to me as I stepped inside are  _ ‘What did you do this time?’ _ ”

 

“Then she’s berating me for coming there in the middle of the night. And for crying. And being drunk...I tried to tell her that I- that… I was… hurt.” Louis tried, but he couldn’t say the words he needed to use.

 

The memory of desperation settled heavily in his body. Louis was exhausted by remembering how desperately he’d tried to get his mother to comfort him. To recognise that he was hurt, and do as she was supposed to. She was his mother. She was supposed to protect him and comfort him. And let him cry and be upset when he clearly had reason to.

 

“I went to lay down on the sofa and she gets me a pillow and a blanket. I can feel the well-worn seats on that old sofa. It wasn’t comfortable at all.” Louis thought about the flower patterned sofa he’d forgotten about long ago.

 

“I feel so strongly that I need to do something to fix this. I need to apologise.”

 

“Who do you need to apologise to?” Johnny asked while his pen was racing over the paper of his notepad.

 

“Everyone.” Louis sighed. “Aiden. Joseph. My sister, I woke her up with my crying. My parents. If I’d just gone home right away...”

 

Louis gripped his head once again. Hissing as he felt the area where the swelling had been. 

He was reminded of the pain when he laid his head on the pillow. “I think I should have gone to the hospital.”

 

“Mum doesn’t agree. She tells me to go to sleep.” Louis says in a concluding manner. “I don’t sleep. I lie there worrying about concussion and facing Joseph in the morning. And about how to apologise to everyone.”

 

The room falls silent for a moment.

 

“38 minutes, 14 seconds. You can stop the recording now.” Johnny says.

 

Louis was drained after that hellish experience. Memories and feelings and memories  _ of _ feelings were swirling around inside him. It was confusing not knowing which feelings were current and which came from memory.  

 

He barely heard Johnny talking. There was suspicion about a concussion and affirmation about Louis’ innocence in the whole shitshow. There was encouragement about how well it went and how all the breathing exercises came in handy and prevented hyperventilating a few times.

 

There were instructions about how to proceed with the treatment. Yeah, yeah, two parts. A daily walk from the pub, to Aiden’s place - oh fuck, hopefully he doesn’t live there still - and then to his parent’s old place. Listen to the recording once a day. Come back in a week and make a new recording. 

 

Louis knew. He had memorised the whole goddamn treatment plan.

 

He held it together until he was in his car. No, not his car, his brother’s car. Louis was too fucking poor to own a fucking car. Thanks to this fucking hell his asshole of an ex had created.

 

Louis wondered if he was ever meant to survive this, as he sat in that silver coloured, borrowed car and cried until he was out of tears.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did everyone survive?


	10. The Healing Song, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:**   
>  Louis listens to the recording and naturally he’s quite shook up and emotional over it. 
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is mild compared to the last one. I'm anxiously waiting for comments on the last chapter. Should I expect to be yelled at? 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> What A Feeling - One Direction  
> One Step Closer - Linkin Park  
> What A Feeling - One Direction   
> Until It Sleeps - Metallica
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
> Yes, I know What A Feeling is on there twice. That’s the way it needs to be. :)
> 
>  

 

 

It was no coincidence that the kids weren’t home this weekend. Neither was the fact that Louis’ schedule was cleared for the entirety of said weekend.

 

Louis counted on this to be the shittiest weekend of his life, what with the beginning of the treatment and all, so he had made sure that the start of this would be on one of his lonely weekends. He planned on spending the weekend in isolation, as he liked to call it.  

 

Louis did that from time to time. He made sure not to have any commitments and then he’d just lock himself inside his flat for a few days. He didn’t answer phone calls, texts or online messages, usually his phone was silenced. He simply refused any kind of human interaction for the duration of his seclusion.

 

The introvert side of Louis was always pushing for solitude, demanding it really. And it was clear that he periodically needed these breathers, where he could just let everything go.

 

Most of these weekends he didn’t even bother to put on clothes. If he was cold, or feeling exposed, he’d just wrap a blanket around himself and that was that.

 

Usually, an isolation weekend meant that only Saturday and Sunday were days where he didn’t go outside. However, this situation required that Louis’ self-chosen confinement started on Thursday afternoon. There was no way in hell he could handle social situations after a therapy session like that.

 

That meant Louis’ weekend of isolation was already in progress when he woke up on Friday morning. He was still trying to cope with everything that the therapy session had stirred up, and wasn’t ready to add to it. So, he pushed away every thought of the recording and was planning on avoiding it for as long as he could.

 

Just like part two of the treatment - the walk, the trauma route - wasn’t happening this weekend, he probably could postpone listening for a day or two.

 

* * *

 

Friday afternoon, Louis was sprawled on his sofa with a wireless keyboard in his lap and a half empty bag of salted crisps next to him. With thick knitted socks on his feet, and a purple blanket wrapped around his waist, he was in his usual reclining position - with both feet on the coffee table and one ankle crossed over the other and his head resting against one of many pillows against the backrest.

 

Instead of a TV, like normal people, Louis had his sofa pointed at a computer that was hooked to a forty-two inch screen. Much better than having a TV. Nowadays, people had fancy devices like Apple TV’s to achieve the same, but Louis was old school. A normal computer sufficed.  

 

He was passing the time by clicking around and watching random videos on Youtube. 

 

Rose had apparently been using his account again, since all the recommendations and suggested videos were music videos and interviews with that boy-band she was into. And well, since Youtube was so adamant about it, he might as well watch a few of those interviews. They were good looking lads, after all.

 

A few videos later, Louis was only partly focused on what he was watching. His mind was anxiously looking for a more effective escape than young lads talking about the songs on their new album could provide.

 

Louis dragged himself to the kitchen for a refill of his cup, when there was one tune that really caught his attention. The chorus of some song really drilled itself straight into Louis’ heart, without him even hearing the lyrics. 

 

What was this song?

 

Once he was back on the sofa with a fresh cup of steaming herbal something, Louis figured out the title of the song he searched for it on Spotify.

 

_ ‘What a Feeling’ _ by One Direction.

 

As Louis’ habits were, he clicked on the lyrics tab to be able to read the lyrics as he listened to the song.   

 

What a Feeling. How fitting. Because when the intro started playing, the feelings started too. All of them.

 

Louis was feeling everything. It was like everything he’d ever felt in his life came back to him. As well as everything he would ever feel in his life. He was feeling everything simultaneously.

 

There was so much sorrow, as the wounds from his past came running back. All the shame and guilt. All his broken dreams were in the atmosphere. The loneliness, the envy and the hopelessness were all present.

 

There were clear memories of happiness in there too. Every bit of joy and contentment Louis had known in his life, was now felt vividly. And there was so much hope for the future. This youthful form of giddiness - like it was a sunny and warm Friday evening in springtime and you have plans with your friends, to do something fun and just live life. That feeling was there, prominent and strong.

 

Louis felt gratitude,  _ so much _ gratitude, towards everything good in life. And - surprisingly - all the horrible shit he’d been through too. That shit had taught him a lot, and he was grateful for it.

 

And Louis felt love. So much love. He loved his kids, he loved his friends and family. He loved himself and he loved his life. He loved this process of healing, every progress he had made as well as every progress he was about to make. He loved it all. It was overwhelming.

 

In that moment, Louis learned that it breaks you open, feeling this much emotion, this intense emotion, all at once.

 

The song claimed it’s place and Louis had no choice but to let it do what it was supposed to do.

 

If Louis were a cartoon character, this all would have been flurrying around comically above his head. Images of feelings, thoughts and memories would be spinning like a tornado. Perhaps with the company of a few stars and birds, to signify dizziness.

 

Listening to the song over and over, Louis felt a surge of solid and permanent strength in his heart.

 

_ It’s time for this then,  _ he thought as he got up from the sofa to fetch his phone - and the diabolical audio file from therapy within it.

 

* * *

 

Louis was laying in his bed. Stuffed elephant on his chest and phone by his ear on the pillow. He pressed play on the recording and turned his eyes towards the ceiling as he waited for his own voice to fill the room.

 

At first, Louis had been intimidated by the idea of having to listen to his own voice. He’d thought it would be embarrassing and humiliating. But now that he was listening, there was nothing embarrassing about that. He could actually appreciate the soft, raspy tone of his voice.

 

What was surprising, was the steadiness of his voice. There was not one bit of trembling. The distress that he had felt while he spoke could not be heard. None of it. His voice was melodic, calm and even.

 

Tears were forming in the corners of Louis’ eyes and he closed them to let the watery drops escape. 

 

The realisation was devastating. 

 

So this was how good he’d become at keeping up the appearances and not showing emotion?

 

It was heartbreaking to get auditory confirmation of the extent of the walls he had built for protection. This alone was solid proof that Louis was indeed wearing a mask. And had done it for so long - for most of his life - that there was no way of knowing what was Louis and what was this shield he’d fabricated.

 

He knew that the visual part of his shield had cracked while he was making this recording at therapy. Some of his distress had been visible to Johnny. Both due to Louis actively stopping himself from closing off and him not being able to hold everything in.

 

Now, Louis knew that the auditory part of his armor was holding up, and it was as strong as ever.

 

Not that long into listening, Louis was crying full on. He was once again reliving all the pain and everything he remembered feeling, even though his voice wouldn’t relay any of that.

 

Panic was piercing his entire body, and he let it. He was safe here, in his own bed, weighed down by the stuffed elephant he was gripping. For now, it was safe to feel.

 

As soon as the recording ended Louis switched apps and put ‘What a Feeling’ on repeat. And he kept crying. He listened to the song over and over as he cried himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Louis woke up with a massive headache. He felt morbidly amused as the thought of him feeling hungover entered his head. Good, at least he hadn’t cried away his somewhat sarcastic sense of humour.

 

His phone had died during the night, so it was necessary to give it a few minutes of charging before he could turn it on and start to manically listen to ‘What a Feeling’ again.

 

There were a lot of new notifications in the upper right corner of the screen, but Louis just disregarded those.

 

Louis spent a long time in bed. Listening to the song. Thinking about his life, what it had been and what he wanted it to become. He was intermittently bursting into tears, and for once in his life, he didn’t really care about letting every emotion come and go as they pleased.

 

During his lie in, it became clear to Louis that he wanted to start consciously creating happy memories for himself. 

 

Much like he’d decided years ago, when he stopped drinking and smoking, he thought of what kind of images he wanted Rose and Jonathan to have of him when they were all grown up and thought of their childhood. Just as much as he wanted his kids to have warm memories, Louis wanted to be able to look back years from now, and smile and be proud of himself.

 

That, the project of actively creating happiness and good memories, would start now, right this moment.

 

Louis’ thoughts were sealed by the voice on his phone singing:

 

_ Whatever chains are holding you back _ __   
_ Holding you back, don't let 'em tie you down _ __   
_ Whatever change is holding you back _ _   
_ __ Holding you back, tell me you believe in that

 

Exactly. Louis decided that the song would be his source of strength and motivation for this part of the journey.

 

A soundtrack of sorts. His healing song.

 

He’d survived this far. He had gotten through all kinds of shit, but always with heavy, negative feelings weighing him down.

 

He needed something to keep him going through all this. A positive vibe. A healing song.

 

* * *

 

Sometime during the day Louis contemplated texting Harry and ask for company and support. To include him in this positive aspect he wanted to add to his life. Especially after seeing the many missed calls and worried texts from him.

 

But in the end, he decided not to. He didn’t want Harry to see him like this - dressed in a blanket, all red and blotchy with swollen eyes and smelly breath. He would give himself the weekend and then he would contact Harry and ask for help.

 

What Louis didn’t count on was for him to come banging on his door. Damn it.

 

The boys and Louis’ family all knew about his habits of isolation. They left him alone and knew not to worry too much if Louis didn’t answer any messages on a weekend when the kids weren’t home.

 

But Harry was new. He didn’t know the full extent of Louis’ weirdness, so naturally, he was bound to get worried when Louis ignored all one thousand of his messages.   

 

A furious buzzing of the doorbell interrupted Louis’ dinner preparations. Well, dinner might be a little too optimistic description of putting cheese on rye bread, thus creating a simple sandwich.

 

Louis had his blanket wrapped tight over his chest and fastened under his arms - the same way you sometimes fasten a towel around the body. That makeshift clothing would have to do for answering the door, Louis thought and put the plate down on the counter and went to do just that.

 

When Louis got the door open, Harry rushed through and hugged him tight. “Thank god you’re okay!” He mumbled into Louis’ neck.

 

This unexpected burst of affection stunned Louis a bit, so he just let himself be hugged, and hugged back the best he could.

 

When Harry let go his eyes strayed downwards as he took in Louis’ outfit. 

 

“Are you naked?” he asked.

 

Louis chuckled at the straightforward question. 

 

“You’re lucky I put on some underpants earlier.”

 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, seemingly zoning in on Louis crotch. “How is that lucky?”

 

He came out of his daze quickly and his eyes went wide - they were beautiful eyes - as the realisation of what he’d just said caught up to him.

 

Louis laughed and it felt so good to have this ridiculous interaction with Harry.

 

The tops of Harry’s cheeks were a faint pink colour as he closed his eyes and shook his head. 

 

“I’m sorry. That was so inappropriate. I didn’t mean to-”

 

His words stopped when he opened his eyes and looked at Louis’ face. 

 

“You’re not okay.” Harry stated with a crestfallen expression and a worried tone to his voice.

 

Louis shook his head and smiled sadly. 

 

“That depends on what you’re referring to and the definition of okay. But not really, no.”

 

Louis guided Harry into the kitchen while he went to get dressed. When he returned in a soft looking old t-shirt and sweats, Harry had finished making them both sandwiches and had laid the table.

 

“You should have let me know, Louis. You should have called me. You… you don’t have to do this alone.” Harry said quietly as they sat down at the table, each with a sandwich and a glass of orange juice. It was obvious he chose his words carefully. He was probably trying not to berate Louis for choosing to suffer by himself.  

 

Louis finished chewing his first bite before he replied apologetically. “At first I didn’t know I could. I always feel like it’s unfair of me to unload my shit on someone else.”

 

“And earlier today, when I realised that I could, I didn’t want to disturb you. Or to be disturbed myself.”

 

Harry looked like he was about to apologise for his dramatic and somewhat forceful arrival, so Louis added “But I’m really glad that you’re here. I actually feel a lot better now that you are.”

 

Harry smiled sweetly and reached over the table to give Louis’ hand a gentle squeeze.

 

Louis spent the evening telling Harry about the therapy session, his isolation habits, the recording and most of the revelations he’d had so far. They moved to sit on the sofa at some point, Harry making sure there were snacks and beverages on the coffee table.

 

They listened to the healing song together a few times. Harry turned out to be quite a fan of the group and already knew all of their songs. So naturally, he went on a rant, ticking off all the songs Louis needed to listen to.

 

Louis kept randomly bursting into tears and didn’t even try to hide it. It was freeing, letting the tears come and letting Harry in like this, letting him see what Louis usually kept for himself.

 

Harry stayed close, often giving Louis reassuring touches. 

 

With kindness and compassion glowing in his eyes, he let his fingers brush on Louis cheek or smoothen down the strands of his hair that were sticking up. He placed his hands on Louis’ shoulders, or let them slide down his arms in tender and comforting caresses. He hugged Louis every now and then or took hold of one of Louis’ hands, to show his support.

 

And Louis was so happy that he got to do this, that he’s brave enough to let Harry see all of this and that Harry wanted to be here. And that there was something to balance out all the awful things Louis had to endure.

 

It was getting late and Louis still hadn’t listened to today’s portion of the recording. He didn’t really want to listen to it again. He had no desire to be reminded of all the existing reasons the voice on the recording was so ruthlessly controlled. The thought of reliving it all once again made Louis want to vomit.

 

But Louis had an idea floating around in his head. After a lengthy debate with himself - and whatever demons that stubbornly meddled with his thoughts - Louis was determined to ask for Harry’s help in all this.

 

“I, ehm-” Louis nervously cleared his throat as he tried to figure out how to ask. “I... I need to listen to the recording. Still haven’t done that today.”   

 

Louis looked down at his fingers, that were nervously pinching and twisting the skin of his hands. “And I was thinking… Ehm-”

 

Harry put his hand on Louis’ to calm him. “What were you thinking, Lou?”

 

“I was thinking that if you… do you…” Louis huffed with noticeable frustration. “Would you hold me? While I listen to it, I mean.” He finally got out.

 

“Of course, Lou. No problem. At all.” came Harry’s sincere answer.

 

“I need to lie down when I listen. In the dark. You’d have to stay here. Over night…Are you okay with that? To… ehm... sleep here?” Louis stuttered.

 

“Louis. I’d love to sleep with you.” Harry said seriously, the intensive gaze of green eyes meeting blue ones.

 

Louis burst into bright laughter and Harry was quick to follow.

 

Again, it felt so liberating to get to have one these ridiculous moments with this thoroughly ridiculous man. The nervousness was letting go of it’s vicious claws.

 

Louis put his hand in front of his mouth, eyes shining with tears, and he kept giggling as he got up, took Harry’s hand and directed him to the bedroom.    

 

Louis crawled into bed as he was, with his t-shirt, sweats and socks still on. Harry borrowed a pair of shorts and went to the bathroom to change. When he came back, Louis was already under the covers, facing the wall while he mentally prepared himself for listening.

 

He’d left a lot of room for Harry in this kingsize bed of his, so there shouldn’t be a problem for them both to fit.  

 

Louis felt the bed dip under Harry’s weight as he climbed in. There was a pause in his movements for a couple of heartbeats and Louis expected him to question this arrangement.

 

But then Harry carefully lifted the corner of the duvet and scooted in close to Louis.

 

As he settled in and laid down his head on the pillow, he put his arm around Louis’ waist and pressed his nose against Louis’ hair. Louis could feel his inhale. 

 

If he wasn’t so focused on the imminent horror show, Louis would reflect - and maybe panic a bit - about the fact that there’s a man in his bed, lying very close to him in a manner that’s definitely more than something friends do.

 

“Is this okay?” Harry whispered.

 

“Yeah.” Louis answered quietly. With both of his shaking hands, he took a hold of Harry’s hand on his stomach and moved it to his chest, squeezing it and holding it there firmly. This made it necessary for Harry to move a little bit closer.

 

“Are you ready?” Louis asked

 

“I am. Are you?”

 

Louis was about to let someone listen to one of the worst stories of his life, to see him break down. He was not ready. At all. 

 

But he’d rather have all of it happen at once, than do every little reveal and plea for help in steps and stages.

 

“No. But I don’t have much of a choice.” Louis said and pressed play on his phone and let it fall on the mattress in front of him.

 

* * *

 

Louis physical reaction was worse this time. His heart was beating hard and fast, like it was trying to do the work of a lifetime in half an hour. The knot in his stomach was bigger, threatening to empty its contents. The prickling feeling throughout his body felt more like stabbing. It hurt to breathe. Although the weight in his chest was balanced by the weight of Harry against his back, it still felt like there was fire in his lungs.

 

Louis was gripping Harry’s hand and pressing it to his chest and Harry was laying behind him, holding him tight.

 

He laid still, apart from the trembling his sobs were causing. There were moments when Harry was crying too. Louis could hear him sniffle sometimes and feel his controlled tremors.

 

When the recording ended neither of them moved or made a sound for a long while. Louis felt frozen, like the only thing he could do, was hold on to Harry’s hand and try to breathe.

 

Since Harry’s hand was stuck against Louis’ chest and the other one was wherever the hell the other arm went when you’re spooning someone, he soothed Louis by slowly and tenderly rubbing his nose and cheek against the back of Louis’ head.

 

Then Harry started humming quietly, and soon he was singing softly in Louis ear.

 

“What a feeling to be right here beside you now, holding you in my arms…”

 

At that, Louis’ sobbing was back with renewed force, for an entirely different reason.

 

Beautiful, wonderful, amazing Harry was singing Louis’ healing song for him.  

 

For the second night in a row, Louis cried himself to sleep. The difference from the night before, was that now he could share his pain.

 

He had the addition of a hopeful and harmonious feeling growing in his chest. And strong arms around him, keeping him safe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. Don't you just love Harry? 
> 
> Also, comments people! Do you like it? Do you hate it? Should I just stop fishing for comments?


	11. The Sunday Of Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:**  
>  A lot of talk about the emotional repercussions of abuse.  
> A lot of crying.  
> Some cutesy kissing and some heated kissing, if that’s something someone might be triggered by. 
> 
>  
> 
> Speaking of kissing, I just noticed the word ‘kissy’ in this chapter. Unlike other well-known Larry-related words and phrases that I’ve deliberately included in this story, ‘kissy’ is completely unintentional. This chapter was written May 2017, so the choice of words has nothing to do with the current use of ‘kissy’ throughout the fandom. A happy coincidence. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Just Hold On - Steve Aoki, Louis Tomlinson  
> Could I Have This Kiss Forever - Enrique Iglesias, Whitney Houston  
> Carolus Rex - Sabaton  
> Stolen Dance - Milky Chance
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

Louis woke up with a sense of dread weighing in his stomach. As was with the earlier feeling of a hangover, this too used to be a common occurrence back in those days when he was still drinking.

 

He felt a presence beside him before he even opened his eyes. Harry was still there then.  _ Oh god _ . A part of Louis had hoped he would have left after he fell asleep. But no, here he was, snoring softly and sounding all kinds of cute. Fuck.

 

The fear in his stomach spread quickly through him and caused his anxiety to spike up. Last night Louis had let Harry in on the things he was most ashamed of. He’d let his entire vulnerability show. 

 

Not knowing Harry’s reaction to it, filled him with horror.

 

Maybe he had exposed too much. What was he thinking? 

 

He’d made a spontaneous decision. Gone with a spur of the moment thing and asked Harry to be present while he listened to that god awful recording. He’d asked Harry to hold him, like he was some kind of child that couldn’t take care of himself. Fucking hell. How stupid was he? Embarrassing himself like this. Giving Harry every reason to mock him and get as far away from him as possible.  _ Stupid, stupid shit. _

 

Louis laid on his back - not daring to move - and focused on his breathing. Breathe in strength and confidence. Breathe out anxiety and stress. Breathe in the wanted, breathe out the unwanted.  _ I am in control of my thoughts, my thoughts are not in control of me. _

 

After a few moments of this breathing exercise with the mantra, Louis felt himself relax. The fear and anxiety began to slip away and nothing seemed as bad anymore. 

 

After all, Harry had stayed the entire night. He couldn’t have been that disgusted by Louis’ unreasonable demands and clinginess. He had comforted Louis so much last night, with the holding and the singing.

 

Still, he needed to have a talk with Harry. About a lot of things, but mostly he needed to hear what Harry had to say about this humiliation he’d witnessed. So Louis gathered all his courage, opened his eyes and turned his entire body to face the sleeping man.

 

The morning light illuminated the room enough for Louis to see Harry clearly. He was gorgeous. Even with his cheek smushed against the pillow and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth.

 

Louis knew he was growing dangerously fond of this… this… whatever magical being Harry was.

 

And he was walking dangerously close to the line of where he wouldn’t be able to handle Harry’s presence in his life. Nor would he be able to handle if Harry’s presence in his life was to cease. 

 

If his life wasn’t a fucking mess before, it certainly was now.

 

Louis watched Harry for a long time. He breathed in Harry’s scent - faint remnants of some cologne and something that was just Harry.

 

He memorised his features. Noticed every speckle on his face. Admired the stubble that was beginning to show on his chin and upper lip.

 

Louis couldn’t keep himself from touching anymore, so he let his thumb brush lightly on Harry’s cheek at first. Louis’ fore and middle fingers were slowly caressing their way from Harry’s forehead down to his cheek and stop right beside his lips. The full and nicely pink lips, that Louis very much wanted to taste, if he was honest with himself.

 

Harry stirred and blinked his eyes open. He smiled when Louis withdrew his hand and directed his eyes away from Harry’s, embarrassed to have been caught touching without permission.

 

“I like it when you touch me.” Harry’s raspy morning voice informed playfully.

 

“Good morning to you too.” Louis said, trying to hide his blush with a quiet chuckle.

 

There were a few heartbeats of silence before Harry asked “How are you feeling?”

 

“Oh… I’m  _ feeling _ , that’s for sure.” Louis told him with a slightly scornful tone and clear emphasis on the word ‘feeling’.

 

But he quickly changed his demeanor, not wanting to play any games with Harry, and let his insecure side show entirely. 

 

“I’ve been having a bit of anxiety here and I think we need to talk about… everything?”  

 

“Yeah…I’m so sorry that this happened to you. I was awake for a while after you fell asleep. It got me thinking and I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright?”

 

Louis nodded the best he could with the pillow constricting his movements. 

 

“I think that’ll make it easier for me. Thank you, H.”

 

Harry took Louis’ hands in his own and kissed them sweetly. They were both laying on their sides facing each other, knees touching and hands clasped together in the middle.

 

“I understand that all of this is hard, Lou. Please know that you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Okay?” Harry voiced his concerns, his whole face was showing the sincerity of his words.

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

“On the recording, you seemed very insistent about being angry. Why did you have to get angry?” Harry asked tentatively, forehead creasing with the question.  

 

“There were several reasons for that.” Louis started with a sigh, thinking about how to put it so it made sense. 

 

“My anger was always for protection. On many levels. That particular instance it was to protect both me and Aiden.”

 

“I know it might not make much sense. And it’s really hard to explain. Anger has always been the only acceptable emotion.” Louis kept scrambling for words, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t get embarrassed by Harry’s focused gaze. Or distracted by the same.

 

“If I got angry, it masked everything else, you know? I would never,  _ ever _ , give him the satisfaction of knowing how it really affected me, the- ehm, how he treated me. He could never see how vulnerable I was. He didn’t deserve to know my fear, or my hurt. Anger was the best way to hide it all.”

 

Harry’s thumb was slowly caressing the back of Louis’ hand, effectively comforting and calming him.

 

“Sometimes I thought that this kind of behaviour, me being angry and getting in his face, was the reason for the… for him... for the violence.” Frustrated, Louis had to accept that he couldn’t say it straight out this time either.

 

“Sometimes I thought that it was my fault because I couldn’t behave like a normal adult, you know? But it wasn’t, I know that now. The anger came after the situation was already set in motion. It was just another shield, the anger was.”

 

“How do you mean the situation was already set in motion?” Harry asked for clarification.

 

Louis was surprised that he didn’t mind that Harry was listening closely enough to ask questions. It actually was a bit of a relief, knowing that he was there, listening and caring and making sure that Louis processed everything thoroughly, whether it was his intention or not.

 

“A lot of the time I could tell long before when things were going to shit.” Louis elaborated, squeezing Harry’s hand to ground himself. 

 

“Sometimes I managed to avoid… um… an explosion. I could steer things in a less harmful direction. Other times it was clear that shit was going to happen, the only question was when.”

 

“This was one of the times I knew very early on, back at the pub probably. Suppose that could’ve been part of the reason I tried to escape in the first place. Why I didn’t want to go home.”

 

Harry listened silently, but kept up with the comforting, light touches he so freely gave away.

 

“I think I was afraid of Aiden getting hurt, so I got angry both to hide my fear and to hurry up the process, so to speak.” Louis twisted uncomfortably at the words. “And to keep his focus and anger on me.”

 

“It wouldn’t have mattered what I did that night. There would’ve been a…” Louis closed his eyes and took a few shaky breaths, “...a beating. Regardless.”

 

“I’m just sorry that Aiden had to get caught up in that. He had to get hurt.”

 

“And that he saw it all. Everything.” Louis whispered this last addition, squeezing his eyes shut. 

 

He kept his eyes closed as he went on about everything he now felt and thought about that night. It was quite interesting to be aware of the difference between his current perception and his thoughts and feelings back then.

 

Now it was so clear to Louis how typical of an abused spouse he’d been. How distorted his sense of self had been and how the thoughts and behaviours he’d perceived as his own, were in fact forced on him by the circumstances. He’d adopted behavioral patterns in order to make things easier on himself. In order to survive.

 

“What makes me so angry now is that he forced me to show parts of me publicly that I didn’t want to show. He forced me to show my vulnerability. To Aiden back then, and to whoever might have walked by and seen us.” 

 

Louis let the anger rise in his chest and carried it out in his voice. Making his words harsh.

 

“And he’s forcing me again. Humiliating me by making me show my vulnerability. When I made the recording with Johnny. And now with you. I’m not choosing to show this side of me. He made that choice for me a long time ago. I had to deal with the consequences. I still have to deal with them.” Louis’ anger made his voice sharp and loud. Even that helped, it helped to allow the anger in his body.

 

Harry spoke for the first time in a long time, “I’m sorry,” he said and softly caressed Louis’ cheek as Louis let out an angry huff and leaned into his touch. Despite the circumstances, he was so happy to have Harry here.

 

Louis hoped that Harry understood the deeper meaning of his experience. That there was far more to abuse than just the details on the recording. 

 

The emotional aspect of abuse was far, far worse than the physical. The physical part, as horrible as that was in itself, was usually very short. Manageable, as sick as that sounded. 

 

It was the emotional trauma that fucked you up. It was the emotional part that created PTSD and stuck around for ever.

 

“It’s unfair.” Louis says in a weak voice, barely a whisper. Now that the anger was out, it had clearly taken Louis’ energy with it. “You get your dignity ripped out of you. And your integrity, and the sense of control over yourself.”  

 

Harry scooted in closer and wrapped his arms around Louis.

 

“And then it’s even more unfair. Because over time, your sense of self gets completely distorted. Self worth and self love are abstract concepts that happen only in fantasies. Or perhaps to other people.” Louis continued while he felt uncomfortably close to tears again. 

 

He burrowed his face into Harry’s chest.

 

“Like, how are you ever supposed to function normally after that?”  

 

* * *

 

It was evident that it took a toll on Louis, having to re-live the memories and every other bit of the atrocities he had endured in his life.

 

Harry didn’t even have the chance to answer Louis’ question before his tense body relaxed a little and his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. Soon, soft snores could be heard against Harry’s chest.

 

Much like the night before, Harry laid awake with his arms around Louis, head full of questions and a chaotic mixture of thoughts and feelings loudly announcing their presence.

 

Harry’s affection for Louis had developed frighteningly fast and strong, and he was now more determined than ever to do everything he could to ease the burden of Louis pain. 

 

The need to shelter him and take care of him was prominent.

 

He wanted to show him what a loving relationship could be. He wasn’t going to let up until Louis knew how wonderful and truly loveable he really was.

 

To Harry it was obvious that Louis’ past experiences were still affecting his behaviour and his sense of self worth, even without Louis telling the stories with his words. 

 

Harry had his own experiences. He’d seen it in some of his clients. And he’d gone through similar bouts of self hatred, hopeless beliefs and lack of worth in life. 

 

Growing up with a narcissistic mother had often included mental and emotional abuse, so he could relate to Louis on a very personal level.  

 

* * *

 

Harry must have dozed off too. One second he was thinking about ways to help Louis and the next he was startled awake by said man sobbing violently, face still pressed into his chest. 

 

He tightened his arms around Louis and started rubbing his back soothingly.

 

Harry’s heart broke for the thousandth time since he met Louis. Because the intensity of his pain was nothing but heartbreaking. 

 

The pain radiated from him, Harry could feel it too, alongside the incredible strength Louis had tried to describe several times. Louis’ strength and the bright light that was his core were clear as day. You didn’t have to be an empath to feel what Louis was emitting.

 

Harry imagined that this strength and light was something that either drew people in, made them want to be near Louis, curious and in awe - or it scared them out of their minds, made them shy away in misjudgement and hatred.

 

He felt so lucky to have met this… this sweet creature, and to have earned his trust.

 

Harry was falling. Hard. Mercilessly.

 

A few thoughts about the possibility of these fast feelings causing himself to get hurt entered Harry’s mind, but none of them could latch on. He was far past the point of no return.

 

He pressed a few sweet kisses in Louis’ hair and on his forehead. He hummed quietly and hoped that it was enough comfort.

 

Harry was careful not to subdue Louis’ sobbing by shushing him or telling him that everything was alright. He knew - he’d learned in his youth never to comfort someone by trying to make them stop crying. Or get them to hurry out of whatever feeling that was causing their distress.

 

It was actually detrimental and quite insensitive to shush someone.

 

Just let them cry. Make them feel that it’s okay to cry and feel things. Just let them know that it’s fine to let emotions prevail and run their course. 

 

Yes, it makes you feel useless as fuck, but it’s so much more important to let someone feel their emotions than it is for the supporting person to be comfortable.

 

Harry knew. He had learned it the hard way.

 

It took Louis a while to calm down. With a shaky voice he apologised for crying and for waking Harry.

 

“I’m sorry… so sorry. This is so weird. There’s a part of me that’s so scared of crying...“ Louis began rambling hurriedly but stopped abruptly.

 

Harry’s guess was that the part that was left out from that sentence had something to do with ‘being weak’. It usually was.

 

Somewhere along the line, people were always brainwashed into believing that crying and showing emotion was synonymous with weakness. This shit got so deeply drilled into the collective humankind, that any one individual’s logical and emotional knowledge of there not being a single connection between crying and weakness were not enough to completely rid of the false image.

 

Which was why Harry had made it a part of his work to try his hardest to change this belief. Suppressing emotions was detrimental to one’s health.

 

“...and wants so badly to apologise for it. Then there’s the embarrassed part, the one actually apologising. And another one just knows it’s fine. It’s okay to cry.” Louis explained further, making it clear that he knew this.

 

Harry smiled, warmth and pride spreading in his chest. “That’s a sign of healing, Lou. That’s so good. And you’re right, it is okay to cry.”

 

Louis lifted his head and looked at Harry. Then he seemed to remember that he’d just been crying, so with a groan, he hid his face against Harry’s chest again.

 

“Hey… You don’t have to hide from me.” Harry said and tried to scoot back so he could look at Louis.

 

Louis gripped Harry’s waist, holding him in place and pressed his face closer in a way he’d done a lot this morning. “I look like shit.”

 

Harry cupped his cheek and carefully began to lift his face up by the chin. Louis stopped resisting and let Harry guide his face upwards until it was entirely visible. And then Harry just looked. Really looked at Louis.

 

There were fireworks going off in his chest. The feeling of his heart growing too big to fit in his chest was overwhelming.

 

His eyes flickered over Louis’ face with intense focus. Harry hoped that everything he was feeling in this moment could somehow be transferred to Louis just by looking at him. The feelings that were all caused by this soft looking person lying in front of him on this unfamiliar bed.

 

Louis had creases from the pillow on his cheek. His eyes were swollen and cried red, but he was so, so beautiful.

 

“You really don’t.” Harry remembered Louis’ earlier hypothesis. “You’re beautiful. Breathtakingly so.”

 

At first it looked like Louis would fight Harry’s statement. But he remained silent. Harry watched as his expression shifted from uncertainty to one of longing.

 

“Kiss me.” Louis suddenly whispered as he breathed out.

 

“Yeah?” Harry’s heart immediately picked up on the excitement of that request and created a rush of blood so intense that Harry was sure even Louis could hear it.

 

“Yeah.”

 

And so Harry did. He got up on his elbow, the action making Louis roll away and lay on his back. Then Harry leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Louis’ slightly parted lips.

 

* * *

 

Eventually they had to get up and eat something. A few sweet, slow kisses in bed did nothing to prevent their stomachs from loudly rumbling for breakfast, no matter how much Harry just wanted to stay like that forever.

 

Since he was on a mission to take care of Louis, he took full charge of breakfast-making. 

 

Louis tried to object to that, of course, but Harry was having none of it. He placed his hands on Louis’ curvy waist, hoisted him up and placed him on the counter. He stepped in close and leaned in to press a gentle peck on Louis’ lips.

 

“There. You just sit, and I’ll bake you some bread…” Harry mumbled between kisses. “Or maybe that’s too ambitious? I’ll fix you some pancakes.” Now that he had started kissing Louis, it seemed impossible to stop. “You do like pancakes, don’t you?”

 

“Of course I like pancakes. What kind of man do you think I am?” Louis gasped exaggerated, with a hand on his chest as Harry moved away to start cooking.

 

Louis looked delighted. His eyes were narrowed down into happy, thin slivers with crinkles at the corners. His whole body was shaking with giggles while he watched Harry search the cupboards for ingredients and utensils. 

 

Harry wanted him to always be this happy.

 

Every time he came close enough to Louis in his pursuit for things needed, Louis grabbed him by the t-shirt and drew him in for a kiss. 

 

The business of making breakfast took a ridiculous amount of time, but Harry was enjoying himself, loving these little tastes he got of Louis every few minutes. Perhaps Louis found their kisses just as addictive as he did.

 

“You know, it’s been a really long time since I did something silly like this.” Louis said and swinged his sockless feet back and forth. “Sitting on the counter.”

 

“Good. I want you to feel as carefree as you look like right now,” Harry answered as he flipped the first pancake.

 

*

 

The day went by in a similar manner. There were a lot of kisses and a lot of giggling and banter. There was a lot of talking too, mostly about everyday stuff. 

 

Louis really looked carefree and happy and Harry was thankful that not all of his time went into thinking about difficult and horrible things.

 

There were moments when Louis seemed to zone out. He just stopped everything and looked sad as he stared into space.

 

Harry was trying to be attentive. Each time he made a decision if he should stay quiet and stand back a bit, or if he should ask if Louis wanted to talk about it.

 

Some of the times Louis just shook his head and sought physical closeness with Harry. Other times he told some details about his experiences or wanted Harry to ask him questions. And a few times he just burst into tears, that was answer enough.

 

At one point, Harry suggested that they listen to the entire album 'Made in the A.M.’, since there were a lot of good songs on there, besides Louis’ healing song. So they did, while lazily lounging on the sofa close to each other.

 

“Have you ever been to a concert of theirs?” Harry wondered.

 

“I have. I went to one of their shows back in 2014.” Louis stated proudly.

 

“Really?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he shifted so he could look directly at him. He’d kind of gotten the impression that listening to a boyband was a guilty pleasure of Louis’.

 

“Mmm. Admittedly, I wasn’t paying that much attention on the performance back then. Had a lot more important things to focus on.” Louis replied with nonchalance.

 

Harry just blinked at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.  _ What? _

 

Louis laughed. “You do know I have a daughter, right?”

 

“Oh...” The cogs in Harry’s brain started up again. “Right. Of course.”

 

“Rose was always blabbing on about this band she liked, so I bought her the concert tickets for Christmas.” Louis explained with a look of genuine happiness. 

 

“I wasn’t the least bit interested in the band or their music back then. It was all for her. I was happy watching Rose dance and sing along to all the songs. She had so much fun.”

 

Louis’ demeanor shifted to something more somber when he continued speaking 

 

“That little adventure of course meant I was completely exhausted for a solid month afterwards. But I’ll gladly be all kinds of disabled, if it meant that my kid’s happiness and well being was secured. Seeing Rosie's joy and happiness at that concert made it all worth it.”

 

Before Harry had any chance of reacting, Louis continued with a tired chuckle, “So much that I did it all over again a few months later. Took Jonathan to a Sabaton concert. I was a little more invested in the music that time, but it was mostly the same thing. Jon was thrilled and I got to feel like a good parent. Like I could give the kids some kind of normalcy, you know. And that too was worth the month of downtime that followed.”

 

And there was the behavioural pattern that Harry had observed earlier. The pattern from the side of Louis that had been broken into small pieces. The one that always thought that everything he did was wrong or not good enough.

 

“Lou… I’ve said this before, but you do know that you’re a wonderful father, right?”

 

When Louis shrugged, Harry’s determination grew stronger. He was going to make Louis understand just how high his level of greatness was. Or he’d die trying.

 

* * *

 

It was getting late. Louis hadn’t asked Harry to leave, but he also hadn’t asked him to stay. Their situation was unlike any Harry had been in before. It was delicate and he didn’t want to ruin anything by assuming things.

 

He’d been contemplating on how to breach the subject of staying over another night for a long while now. He didn’t want to push Louis to something he didn’t want to do. But there was the risk that Louis would feel abandoned if Harry decided to go home.   

 

Harry was in one of three armchairs in Louis’ living room, chewing his nails in worry, unfocused eyes staring ahead, when Louis returned from the kitchen carrying an old silver tray with an evening snack and hot chocolate for them both. He sat down on the end of the far end of the sofa, that seemed to be his seating of choice for the most time.

 

This was the furthest apart they’d been all day, while being in the same room.

 

Harry wanted to move to sit beside Louis, to touch him and end the terrible craving of closeness he felt. But he opted to stay put and start sipping on his chocolate and taking one of the small sandwiches Louis had made.

 

They sat in silence until both their cups were empty. It was quite uncomfortable on Harry’s part - which was very weird and highly unusual.

 

Harry was just about to share his conflicting thoughts, having decided that full disclosure of his worries was the best way to handle the ‘spend the night or not spend the night’-dilemma, when Louis cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly.

 

“I… um… I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a while now.” He said with his eyes on his lap, where his fingers were picking at his sweats.

 

“Okay? You can talk to me about anything.”

 

Louis looked up, worry evident on his face. How many difficult things could one person handle on a single weekend?

 

“Yeah. So. I…I don’t think I can handle this.” He started carefully. “I can’t deal with the shitshow that is my treatment, and wondering where this is going at the same time.” Louis pointed between the two of them.

 

Harry’s stomach fell to the floor and he was overtaken by this sudden urge to just cry and scream. Or vomit. He would settle for vomiting.

 

Louis must have picked up on his distress, since he hurried to continue with his explanation, sitting up straighter on the edge of his seat.

 

“No. Harry, no. I mean… I’m not backing down. From this.” Again, he made the same gesture between them, slowly shaking his head. “I’m suggesting we skip ahead a few steps. Speed things up a little?” Louis eyes, face and his whole demeanor was signaling a hopeful kind of worry.

 

Harry felt a lot lighter and the crying didn’t seem quite as urgent anymore, but he still wasn’t following. And vomiting was still an option. “I...what?”

 

Louis smiled bashfully. “I can’t handle being in limbo. I need to know the label of our relationship. Are we boyfriends? Are we friends?”

 

Harry rose from the chair and launched himself at Louis, kissing him.

 

“Friends that kiss?” Louis let out that wonderful, melodious giggle as Harry was peppering his face with kisses with a force that made him slowly lean backwards until he was laying on the sofa. “Kissy friends?”

 

“Fuck, Lou, you scared me...” Harry sat back on the edge of the sofa. He looked at Louis, who was flushed and still giggling a bit. He was glowing, with happiness and with expectation. So beautiful. Harry moved Louis leg, to make room for him to sit fully on the sofa. Now situated between Louis’ legs, hands on his knees and gaze focused on those shining eyes, he asked “What… do you want to be boyfriends?”

 

Louis nodded with a growing smile. “Yeah. I want that.”

 

Harry’s grin matched Louis’, and his heart was absolutely trying to hammer it’s way out of his chest. “Me too,” he whispered.

 

Slowly, he took a tight grip on Louis’ legs and pulled Louis further down on the sofa. Closer to him, almost landing in his lap.

 

The way Louis looked at him spoke louder than any word that could be said. There was so much in that one look Louis gave him. Hope. Trust. Excitement. Happiness. This was Louis leaving all the walls down, choosing for himself to let his inner being be seen. 

 

This was Louis trusting Harry.

 

And he was not going to disappoint.

 

So he rose to his knees and leaned in to kiss Louis. He stopped a few centimeters from the prettiest lips he knew. “Boyfriend,” he confirmed and proceeded to kiss him.

 

It started sweet and slow, as a first kiss of new boyfriends should be.

 

Louis put both his arms around Harry’s neck and drew him closer until Harry was fully laying on top of him. He was making small noises and hums of contentment and pleasure. Each of them causing a spark to zip through Harry’s entire body.

 

Their arousal was increasing and soon the kissing had turned frantic. Desperate. Louis moaned into Harry’s mouth and, oh god, Harry needed to taste more of him. And to hear those moans without anything obscuring them. He started placing wet kisses along Louis’ jaw, down to his neck and as far down on his collarbones as his t-shirt allowed.

 

Louis was letting out beautiful noises and his skin tasted like heaven. Warm and a little salty. He seemed to like when Harry bit down on the side of his neck. Each time his grip on Harry’s arms or shoulders tightened and his mewls and moans grew in volume. Harry couldn’t get enough of those noises. He wanted to hear them again and again and again.  

 

But when Harry started to suck a mark in his neck, Louis went still under him.  “No. No.” He whispered.

 

Harry sat back up, alarmed and hurriedly started to apologise. “What’s wrong Lou? Sorry… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you. I’m sorry if I went too far.”

 

Louis too rose to sit, panting a bit and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“No, H. You didn’t go too far. It’s just-” Louis paused and took a few breaths, like he usually did when he needed to calm himself down.

 

“I can’t have love bites. They...  they look like bruises.” Louis said quietly. 

 

He let his fingers brush on Harry’s kiss-swollen lower lip, “And not the kind that are made from sexy mouths, but from hands. Fingers. My mind can’t differentiate between bruises made of love and passion and the ones made from harm.” 

 

Louis voice started out strong and sure but came out as a shaky whisper in the end.

 

And fuck if Harry didn’t want to cry at that. How many layers were there? How much of normal, everyday kind of things did Louis have to avoid because he associated them with shit he’d been through?

 

“Once I went to work with bruises on my neck. They were faded, so I didn’t think anyone would notice them.” Louis continued after additional calming breaths. “They noticed. And they were teasing me, asking if things got heated during the weekend... The marks were made by his hands choking me.”

 

At that Harry did cry. 

 

He thanked Louis for telling him, thanked him for trusting him. And he let his tears fall freely as he kissed his wonderful boyfriend again. 

 

And he kissed him again and again, until Louis got up from the sofa, extended his hand to Harry and told him that it was time they went to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you for leaving comments. <3


	12. The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute and fluffy.   
> Also, smut! :D
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Sail - Awolnation  
> Warrior - Imagine Dragons  
> Home - One Direction  
> If I Could Fly - One Direction
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

 

“Oh my god, Dad! Are you fangirling?” Rose rolled her eyes at Louis as she made her way to sit next to him on the blanket-covered sofa.

 

Louis was coping with the treatment by surrounding himself with plenty of the things he deemed positive enough to outweigh the horror - not to escape the pain, but as a reminder that there were beautiful things in this world.

 

The healing song was just one of those things. Basking in the feeling of having a boyfriend - of having  _ Harry _ as a boyfriend - was another.

 

And then there was what he was currently doing, scouring the internet for everything One Direction, and then excitedly pointing out anything he found good, funny or cute to whoever happened to be around to listen.

 

He totally blamed Rose and Harry for this thing bordering on obsessive behaviour.

 

“I am not!” Louis feigned offence.

 

He certainly was not fangirling. Didn’t that include squealing and fainting? Louis was doing none of those things.

 

Besides, what if he was? He was allowed to fangirl. Fangirling was a rite of passage of sorts, was it not? One everybody went through in their teenage years? 

 

Well, Louis never got to do that, so now he could make up for lost time and fangirl all he wanted.

 

Rose snorted at his explanation. Louis just cuddled her.

 

This was another of his positive things - hugging his kids, being close to them and just spending time with them. Louis often thought about this increase in closeness with his kids and wondered if it was his needs or their needs that was the cause.

 

Louis never really was the type of person that liked to hug people. Or touch people.

 

He theorised that the blame was probably rightfully put on all those times he was forced into hugs as a kid. 

 

It wasn’t just the way his parents had behaved, holding off affection until drenched in alcohol and then having no regards to their children's wishes. There was also the mentality that whenever Louis or his siblings were introduced to various old ladies or disgusting men - some were relatives and others friends of their parents’ - they were always meant to hug them in greeting. Otherwise they were being rude.

 

Not everyone in Louis’ life were people he wanted to hug. He rarely chose to hug his parents or siblings, for example. He’d much rather hug strangers than relatives or family friends. 

 

There were only a few people that he gladly hugged, that he  _ wanted _ to hug. They were a few chosen ones, the ones that Louis never would turn down a hug from.

 

Firstly and most importantly, Jonathan and Rose. But also Harry, Louis’ nieces and nephews and Steve and Niall. 

 

Louis would love to have Liam on the list of people he always hugs as well, but there's an awkwardness between them that made physical contact much less natural than with Steve or Niall. Sure they hugged on occasion, but not every time they met. Louis thought that the awkwardness might possibly be stemming from the times they tried out that friends with benefits thing.

 

Before his kids were even born, Louis had decided that he would never subject them to the kind of emotional neglect he’d been through as a child. He’d failed in some aspects, but never in letting them seek physical closeness whenever they wanted to. Or letting them reject it if they needed to do that.

 

Louis found it very important to teach his kids that their bodies were their own. Even when they were young, it was their choice if someone got to hug them or not. 

 

Louis was always available for hugs and cuddles whenever his kids needed or wanted it, but the other way around was never an option.

 

Nowadays, however, maybe Louis initiated the cuddles more often than before.

 

“Alright,” Louis put the wireless keyboard aside and took his feet down from the coffee table.

 

“Let’s look at that assignment of yours.”

 

Louis pressed a kiss on Rose’s forehead as they got up and went to the kitchen. Rose needing help with her school work was the reason she’d come to pester him in the first place.

 

* * *

 

The assignment morphed into researching debate articles, which then lead to a small disagreement with someone in a random comment section. A mild comment fight on the internet, probably was a better term for it.

 

Rose was typing away on Louis’ laptop while he paced around the kitchen, hands behind his back and eyebrows drawn together in concentration, as he was reciting what she should write.

 

This is how Jonathan found them when he sauntered into the kitchen a while later.

 

“So... this is the training of an inner keyboard warrior?” He asked with a large grin, as if he’d just discovered something new and of great interest. His entire demeanor was somewhere between curiosity and mockery.

 

Both Louis and Rose just laughed at the comment.

 

The inner keyboard warrior was one of their private jokes. Louis had a way with words, so when he wanted something said, he wrote emails. And articles and blog posts - informative ones, not mean or hateful.

 

His level of determination and annoyance could usually be heard by how furiously the keyboard was rattling. Jonathan once jokingly referred to it as Louis’ inner keyboard warrior being awake, and it had stuck.

 

“When’s dinner?” Jonathan continued to ask as he opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice.

 

“Seven. And use a glass.” Louis reprimanded when Jonathan was about to drink from the carton.

 

He glanced at the forest green 70’s style ceramic clock on the wall. Roughly three hours to go.

 

It’d been a week since Harry stayed over. And now he was coming over for dinner. With the kids there and everything.

 

Louis was kind of nervous. Which was really stupid, since the kids had met Harry before. But what if it all went to hell? So many things could go wrong. What if he’d have to break up with Harry before they even got a chance to really try this thing out?

 

Louis had told the kids right away that he and Harry were together. He didn’t see any point in trying to hide his relationship from the kids. 

 

It also happened that Jonathan had caught Louis sniffing his pillow the day they got home.

 

What? It smelled really good. It smelled like Harry. His whole bed smelled like Harry. His clothes too. 

 

How was he supposed to refrain from inhaling the scent as often as possible?

 

* * *

 

Dinner went great. Harry was noticeably making an effort to get to know the kids, throwing question after question their way.

 

Rose, with her all-accepting attitude, already adored Harry. And Louis was pleased to see that the initial amusement Jonathan showed at Harry’s incessant questioning faded after he’d gotten in a few jokes about the interrogation.

 

It turned out that Harry shared Jonathan’s interest in hockey. They chatted on and on about NHL and things Louis couldn’t really muster enough interest to listen in on.

 

Once dinner was done and Louis was cleaning the table, Jonathan vanished to his room. 

 

Harry stood up and placed a sweet kiss in the corner of Louis’ mouth, grinned brightly and turned to follow. For a moment Louis was stunned into silence, but before Harry was out of the kitchen he managed to produce a questioning sound.

 

Harry turned in the doorway and shrugged, still wearing that same bright grin. “He promised I could leaf through his magazines.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“You’re so cute, Dad.” Rose snickered before she followed the other two. Louis shook his head in fondness and proceeded to put the dishes in the washer and wipe down the counter.

 

Half an hour or so later, warmth was spreading in Louis’ chest when he stood leaning against the doorway to Jonathan’s room. The view in front of him made him sigh in content and allowed hope for the future to embed itself in his mind.  

 

Rose was sitting next to Harry on the bed, talking animatedly about some activity her youth group had coming up. Jonathan was in his desk chair. Him and Harry both had their eyes on the TV, as they were playing NHL 16 on the Xbox. 

 

Harry was keeping up with Rose’s explanations - humming and commenting every now and then - as well as joining in on Jonathan’s shouts, whines and complaints regarding the game.

 

Yep. This had potential to be something great. Something really great.

 

“I’ve heated up cinnamon rolls, if anyone wants some.” Louis announced with way too much affection in his voice.

 

* * *

 

The weeks went by. Louis was doing his exposures according to schedule, both the ‘in vivo’ and the ‘imaginal’, as the different types of exposure were called. He walked the trauma route every day. With difficulty, but he walked it nonetheless. He listened to the recording every day. And on Thursdays he went to his therapy session to record a new one.

 

Louis spent a lot of time with Harry. Sometimes with the kids, and the image of Harry being formally included to their family only grew stronger within him. The hopeful longing that Louis was developing when they all were together, was stronger than any fear he had.

 

Other days their time spent together was without the kids. Some of the times they went on walks in the woods, enjoyed watching nature embrace the awakening that was springtime. Other times they visited a park or two, so Louis could admire the beautiful blooming of Magnolia trees.

 

Harry put his supernatural level of patience to use and taught Louis some yoga and light meditation techniques. Who knew, that you didn’t have to sit cross legged while humming mantras in order to meditate. Apparently, you could meditate while walking and everything. You just had to quiet your mind and that was it.  

 

Harry had even explained the meaning of ‘Namaste’.  _ The divine in me recognises the divine in you. _ Louis was intrigued by it. He was intrigued by mostly everything Harry made him see in a new light.

 

Harry’s views seemed new, but somehow still oddly aligned with the path Louis’ healing had taken all on it’s own. Before he met Harry, he’d already discovered the healing properties of nature and other slightly mysterious forces of the universe.

 

Willingly and curiously Louis went along with Harry’s suggestions, trusting that everything would turn out alright.  

 

Harry had made Louis recurring appointments in his work calendar, so technically Harry was using his counselling time on Louis several times a week.

 

When Louis found out, he had questioned the ethics of such action. But Harry claimed that the entire reason for them even meeting, was that Louis had sought Harry’s professional help. How could it be wrong for him to help his boyfriend, professionally? 

 

Still, it didn’t sit well with Louis to take up time that others could benefit from - for free, for that matter. In the end they’d agreed that Louis would pay for Harry’s time by writing articles and maintaining the webpage and all the printed matter that Harry needed for his business.

 

They had date nights, when they went out and engaged in the kind of romantic mush Louis had no recollection of ever experiencing before.

 

Those nights they slept cuddled in each other’s arms. Things had gotten a little heated at times, but Louis had still been apprehensive, only getting used to the thought of sex again.

 

Nothing more than frantic grinding and desperate groping over the clothes went on in whichever bed they shared that night.

 

* * *

 

This particular night it was Harry’s queen size bed in his small, one bedroom flat, that had the honours of witnessing the beginnings of deep love between two people meant for each other.

 

They had been out to dinner at some newly opened fancy restaurant Harry found.

 

Louis’ mood had been exceptionally elevated by Harry’s constant show of affection throughout the night. He was not used to that, not at all used to anyone wanting to show him affection. Let alone in public, where anyone could see.

 

It was a steady hand at the small of his back, guiding him and possessively keeping him close. It was a lingering kiss when they got out of the taxi and again at their table, just before dessert was served. It was the way Harry caressed Louis, light fingertips on his cheek, or lips, and careful rearrangement of some stray tufts of his hair, the way he seemed to have difficulties keeping his hands to himself. It was the sweet smiles, the adoring looks and the attentiveness. The complete focus on Louis, and Louis only.

 

There was a saying, or a song or something, about only having eyes for one person.  _ That _ was how Harry made Louis feel. 

 

For the first time in probably forever, Louis really felt like he was important enough to have someone’s undivided attention. And he’d been  _ married _ twice! As freaked and uncomfortable as the intensity of Harry’s attention made him, Louis couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling. And reciprocate to the best of his abilities.

 

When they arrived back at Harry’s flat, Louis went to the bathroom to wash off a bit and change into his pyjamas.

 

On the bathroom counter was a small gift bag with Louis’ name on it. Well, it shouldn’t have surprised him at all that Harry had bought a gift. Harry had generously given him something at each date, but the placement of this was a bit odd.

 

Louis wanted to cry when he opened the bag.

 

It contained a toothbrush, a razor and Louis’ brand of toothpaste and shaving gel.  _ Fuck.  _

Harry had been observant enough to know the brands Louis used, as well as his favorite color. And now he wanted him to have his own stuff here.

 

Harry already had a toothbrush in Louis’ bathroom, since he’d kept the spare that Louis gave him the first night he accidentally slept over. But Louis had not expected this, to get his own toothbrush. This was only the second night Louis slept at Harry’s. He had his toiletry bag with him.  

 

The sound of a timid knock on the door startled Louis from his thoughts. “Lou?”

 

Louis unlocked and opened the door, gift bag in one hand and purple toothbrush in other.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Oh good. You saw the bag.” Harry smiled and stepped into the bathroom as Louis stepped back. “Was that okay?”

 

Louis nodded, not really knowing what to say.

 

“I also bought two new glasses to serve as toothbrush holders and new towels for both of us.”  Harry pointed excitedly at the two glasses that were placed in the corner of the dark granite countertop and the two light blue towels hanging off the hook just next to the counter.

 

“Harry… This is expensive glassware!” Louis squeaked. “We can’t use them as toothbrush holders.”

 

He picked up one of the tumblers and turned it around as he inspected it. Cobalt blue swirls embedded in thick, clear glass. Louis was pretty sure it was some fancy designer shit.

 

Harry chuckled at that and pressed a few kisses on Louis’ lips before taking the glass and placing it back on the counter.

 

“But I like them. And I like you. And I want you to feel how much I like it when you are here.”

 

Louis could explode with affection for this man and his sappy gestures. It was growing on him. It was rapidly growing  _ in _ him, this feeling of affection. 

 

Love? Was it love? It could be love, Louis thought offhandedly while he kept kissing Harry against the bathroom counter.

 

They made it out of the bathroom, door swinging open with force and slamming into the wall, toothbrushes and pyjamas forgotten. Their lips were connected at all times as they made their way to the bed.

 

Louis was dizzy with Harry’s lips on him, as well as all the unrestrained feelings of happiness swelling in his chest. The sensations of Harry’s touch were buzzing up and down his skin.

 

Louis already knew how Harry sounded when he was aroused. He knew the groans Harry made when he was clutching tightly onto Louis. He knew the small whines and gasps he let out when Louis was biting his neck and pressing his hips against Harry’s, always looking forward to hearing them. If those groans weren’t the sexiest sound ever, Louis didn’t know what was.

 

But tonight, those gorgeous groans didn’t satisfy the heat inside Louis. Something was missing. Even lying down, with the comforting softness of the sheets underneath him and the weight of Harry’s body above him, there was this unsatisfied thrumming in his veins.

 

An expectation. A want. Something more was needed.

 

Louis didn’t know how long they had been lost in their passion, when Harry let go of his lips in favour for placing wet kisses and small bites down his throat. “Harry... I want…” He panted, “I want… Please.”

 

“What do you want, baby?”

 

_ Baby. _

 

Louis wasn’t sure what he wanted. Or how far he wanted to go. But he tugged at Harry’s shirt. At least that could go.

 

Harry sat back and took off his shirt and Louis couldn’t look away. With eyes wide and cheeks flushed, he leaned up and let his fingers trail the tattoos on Harry’s chest.  _ God. Fucking hell. _

 

Harry then started pulling Louis shirt up. “And now you?” Louis nodded, sat up and let Harry take his shirt off.

 

“So sexy, Lou.” Harry murmured as he pushed Louis back and started placing kisses down his torso, taking his time sucking on Louis’ collarbones and nipples. Each of Harry’s kisses and touches sent shivers through Louis’ entire body.

 

When Harry’s lips were reaching Louis’ hipbones, and his fingers were fiddling with the button of his jeans, he stopped and looked up.

 

“Can I?”

 

“You first.”

 

Harry stood up and unceremoniously removed his jeans. Then he kneeled on the bed and Louis’ jeans were off just as fast.

 

They were both achingly hard, had been for a long time. With only Louis’ boxers covering his body, he felt self-conscious. He wanted to shield his erection with his hands, but he was too mesmerised by the way Harry’s eyes grew dark to move at all.

 

Louis kept flicking his gaze between the look of pure desire on Harry’s face and his enormous bulge. Fuck, did Louis want to get his hands on that.

 

Harry was on him again, letting the desire that was visible in his eyes transfer to his touch. His hands and mouth were everywhere, drawing out small moans and whines from Louis.

 

“Is this okay?” Harry asked as he was pulling at Louis’ boxers. He stopped every now and then and made sure that Louis verbally agreed to what they were doing.

 

Louis was used to men that just took what they wanted. Harry was asking for permission. Making sure each step they took, had undoubtable consent. Louis was on fire, almost purring with contentment at how considerate Harry was being.

 

“Yeah. I want to feel you.” Louis breathed, but then stopping Harry with a light grip on his wrist.

 

“But you first.” He said with a teasing smile, but opted for removing his own boxers when Harry was shimmying out of his.

 

He heard Harry’s breath catch and a faint ‘fuck’ being mumbled as he took in the sight of Louis completely bare. 

 

Louis couldn’t take many seconds of feeling on display, opting to sit up and kiss him, instead of waiting for Harry to come to him.

 

Hesitantly he moved his hand along Harry’s thigh, towards his crotch.

 

“Lou… Please.”

 

When Louis curled his hand around Harry’s dick, they both moaned at the feeling. Harry was so hard. And so big.

 

“Fucking hell.” Louis could barely breathe, feeling the weight of Harry in his hand, pumping his hand up and down along his length.

 

Minutes later Louis was on his back again, with Harry nestled in between his legs kissing him passionately and touching him greedily everywhere he could reach. He felt high with arousal, letting out constant moans and whines of pleasure.

 

He had long since surrendered to the attention Harry was giving him, and just let him do as he pleased. And it was so good. So, so good.  

 

Louis felt Harry’s rock hard dick slide against his own. Making his entire body tremble with lust. Harry wrapped his huge hand around both of their dicks and Louis was in heaven. 

 

He tried to keep his eyes open - he wanted to watch the beauty that was Harry lost in the feeling  - but the pleasure Harry was giving him was too great for that to happen.

 

It only took a few strokes for Harry to bring them off together. Louis lost it when Harry tightened his hand around them and at the same time bit down just above his collarbone. His orgasm took him by surprise as he came fast and hard. 

 

His dick hadn’t even stopped twitching when Harry reached his orgasm, just as powerful.

 

And Louis had been wrong. The sexiest sound in the universe was the deep growling moan Harry let out when he came.

 

Afterwards Harry collapsed against Louis, smearing the puddle of come on his belly. He felt Harry inhaling deep where he was nuzzling his neck and holding him close.

 

“You smell divine, baby. You’re so gorgeous like this.”

 

Louis tightened his grip on his shoulders and curled his legs around Harry’s. He placed a few kisses where he could reach. He held on tight, to Harry and to the all the feelings whirling inside of him. 

 

If he just could stay in this moment forever.

 

Once they had caught their breaths, Harry got up to fetch a warm, damp cloth to clean them up with before they fell asleep.

 

“I don’t deserve you.” Louis whispered as he watched Harry’s naked figure walking out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The insecurities are so deeply ingrained... :( But Louis is working on them. 
> 
> What did you think of this cutesy chapter?


	13. The Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:**   
>  Louis is doing the trauma route exposure, which is a bit difficult.   
> Mentions of emotional/mental abuse.   
> Mentions of harassment. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Gloria - Mando Diao  
> Nightmare - Avenged Sevenfold  
> To Have And To Hold - Takida  
> In The End - Linkin Park 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

“We had sex, Niall!” Louis whispered conspiratorially in the middle of the frozen foods aisle.

 

Niall just cackled and kept walking, with an eye on the freezers as he looked for a specific brand of mixed vegetables. 

 

“Congrats.”

 

Louis huffed and started rambling as he followed Niall in his search.

 

“But this is freaking me out! Maybe it’s too soon to have sex. What if he thinks less of me now that I’ve been whoring again? And what if I ruined-”  

 

Niall stopped abruptly and turned to face Louis. He sighed and let the basket drop to the floor. He put both hands on Louis’ shoulders and fixed him with a stern look. 

 

“It’s  _ not _ too soon.  _ No. _ ”

 

Louis took a breath and was about to launch into another explanatory rant when Niall interrupted him again. 

 

“You’ve been together for weeks.  _ Weeks _ , Lou, as in multiple! This is not a random hookup. You’re  _ not _ whoring around. You’re allowed to have sex with your boyfriend!”  

 

Niall gave him an extra pointed look before he let go of Louis and turned to reach into the freezer for the bag he was looking for.

 

“Or are you trying to sabotage your relationship?” Niall asked when he was standing upright again. He moved his hand around in a dismissive gesture, frozen vegetables swinging in the air.

 

“No.” Louis scoffed.

 

Was he? No, Louis was not trying to sabotage anything. Sure, he felt unworthy of someone as wonderful as Harry, but even he wasn’t stupid enough that he’d fail to recognise a good thing when he had one.

 

Niall eyed him suspiciously, a deep crease in his forehead and everything. “Alright. Just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being happy. And you of all people deserve every bit of happiness that comes your way.”

 

They moved along towards the dairy section of the store. “Now tell me about this sex life of yours.” Niall said in a mischievous tone. 

 

He had the ability to switch from a wise guru giving a stern lecture to a careless frat boy at the drop of a hat.

 

Louis sometimes theorised about multiple personalities or demon possession happening there.

 

“Niall!” Louis slapped him on the arm, small giggles bubbling out of him.

 

As was their tradition, Louis and Niall’s sleepovers always started with a trip to the grocery store. They needed snacks, beverages and - in case they decided to forego take away - something to cook for dinner.

 

The grocery store was usually a lengthy business, as the two of them slowly moved from aisle to aisle, more interested in catching up than keeping track of the shopping list. Which almost always was a partial something-something, that only existed in one of their heads.

 

They had a habit of having an animated conversation, far too loud and personal for a public place. The people around them usually gave them scandalised looks, in a way that in any other setting would make Louis hurry home to deal with his anxiety. But when he was with Niall, he didn’t care.

 

He had fun with Niall. Always. He felt happy when they were together. They fit, they were meant to be best friends. Like platonic soulmates.

 

* * *

 

The walk home from the grocery store was basically the same way as Louis’ trauma route.

 

Luckily, this part of town was pretty quiet at night. Even if it still was early, the streets were mostly empty.

 

They were three streets from Louis’ flat when he slowed his pace. Niall was a couple of steps ahead of him, so he didn’t notice right away.

 

“Um… Nialler? We’re not going that way today.”

 

Niall stopped and Louis pointed down the street they were going to walk. 

 

“I haven’t done my walk today, so I need to go this way.”

 

It was a crazy thing, this being triggered by simply being in a place where shit had happened. And to think Louis had gone for years - a lot of years - not even knowing that he was triggered. He had been avoiding the place without even realising he was avoiding it. 

 

Mostly he’d just brushed off whatever uncomfortable feelings he might have had as him simply being weird and cowardly.

 

This street that Aiden used to live on was a perfect example. (He didn’t live here anymore, Louis had looked it up before he dared to walk down that road. Pun not intended.)

 

Louis hadn’t walked the exact same path he did on the night of the assault, until he was told to do so as a part of his treatment. He hadn’t consciously avoided being on the street, but he’d always entered from the opposite direction or from side-streets. And apparently it was enough for it to be called avoidance.

 

Louis wondered how many other places he avoided and was triggered by without conscious knowledge of it.

 

Sometime in the future, when he was a little stronger and a little braver, he planned on visiting some of the other places where shit had happened. Just to analyse his reaction.  

 

“Can I hold on to you?” Louis asked with an added nonchalance to his voice. Niall held his free hand out to Louis, who then grabbed onto his whole arm with both hands. “Thank you.”

 

They were halfway down the street when Niall spoke quietly, “We’re getting close, aren’t we?”

 

“Yeah. How do you know?”

 

“I can feel you tensing up.” he answered and shifted the re-usable grocery bag on his left arm.

 

Louis looked down at where he was clinging on to Niall’s other arm like his life depended on it. “Oh. Sorry.” he said, but didn’t let go of his grip.

 

“Later tonight, can I maybe-” Louis hesitated. Fixed his eyes straight ahead, drew in a deep breath and blew out his cheeks as he slowly let the breath out.

 

“Maybe I can tell you what happened here?” 

 

This week Louis had an additional therapy assignment. He was supposed to tell someone about the trauma. Someone who didn’t already know the details to it.

 

He was making progress, but both Louis and his therapist had noticed that Louis created a safe space of sorts, when he told or listened to the story. So they had to change things up a bit. Louis should talk about the trauma outside of his safe space, outside of the therapy room.

 

He was also forbidden to listen to the recording in his bedroom.

 

“Of course, Lou. You can talk to me.” Niall patted his hand and added a meaningful “Anytime.”

 

Louis held his breath and slowed down as they walked past the streetlamp that had come to be a significant part of Louis trauma memory.

 

Under this streetlamp was where Joseph had caught up to him. And for the past two renditions of the memory, Louis had found great comfort in the presence of said lamp.  

 

When they reached the gate in front of which the assault had happened, Louis stopped.

 

He looked around to see if there was anyone around. When he was sure it was clear, he let go of Niall.

 

“I just want to do this.” He said and walked a few steps further. “I’ve been thinking about staying here and really feel what I’m feeling, but I’ve never dared to do so on my own.” Louis explained.

 

Niall stood quietly and watched as Louis walked back and forth, glancing towards the gate every now and then. He stood still for a moment. Looked around for people again and then turned his back at the gate and took a few calming deep breaths. 

 

This shouldn’t be so difficult.

 

When Louis turned to face the building again, he crouched down and looked intensely at the door. 

 

“There,” he pointed shakily to the door, “it happened there.” Then he stood up and gestured widely to the ground. “I was lying here.”

 

Niall probably didn’t understand what Louis meant, but he didn’t have the energy to explain in detail right now.

 

He was shaking. It was so fucking weird how affected he was by staying still at this place. He was physically seeing the exact same angle as he did in his trauma memory. A part of him wanted to escape both the moment and the location, but another part of him could feel some of the broken pieces being put together. 

 

There was healing taking place. For real.

 

That was the thing with this entire treatment. It was hell. Everyone kept asking Louis why he was doing it. If it was hell, why was he being so stubborn about continuing?

 

He continued with the treatment because it was working. This purgatory did make everything better. Every day Louis could feel some small part of him healing.

 

Sure, he whined about it. He blogged about it. He needed ways to get all the frustrating aspects out of his system while the healing took place. But there was healing, there really was.

 

And the whining and complaining about it helped.  

 

* * *

 

Later, after a dinner and a couple of hours of watching humourous shows on Youtube, Louis sat cross legged on his side of the bed and watched Niall strip down to his underwear. This was their normal routine, nothing strange about it, but Louis felt a weird twinge of pain in his stomach.

 

“Niall, do you think that Harry would mind us sleeping in the same bed?” he asked and tried to sort out the lump that was his duvet.

 

“Why would he mind?” Niall stilled as he was climbing into bed. “It’s not like anything other than hours and hours of whining about various topics will happen in this bed tonight.” He said and bounced on the bed.

 

“Yeah,  _ I _ know that, but Harry might not.” Louis figured. “There might be jealousy issues, with me sleeping next to another man.”

 

Niall crawled under his duvet - the one that was specifically Niall’s, that Louis kept in his linen closet.

 

“What if he  _ is _ jealous?” Louis said with so much glee and excitement that Niall snorted loudly.

 

“Do you actually want him to be jealous?”

 

“Well… He’s so hot when he’s a little possessive.” Louis stated dreamily. “I’m gonna text him.”

 

_ Are you uncomfortable with me sleeping in the same bed as Niall? Should I send him to the sofa? _

 

The first answer that came, only contained a few of the laughing-crying smileys. Then a moment later Harry sent a real text, with words and everything.

 

**_You have my permission to shove him out of the bed_ ** **if** **_he tries something. But other than that, I’m not uncomfortable or worried at all. He’s your friend and you have your traditions. It wouldn’t be very fair of me to demand that you change them._ ** __

 

Louis was equal parts baffled and turned on by that answer. How the hell did Harry manage to be so understanding and above everything all the time? Another text came before he had a chance to reply.

 

**_If it did bother me, then that would be an issue of mine. Something I needed to heal within me. Not something you needed to change._ **

 

“Oh my god.” Niall groaned. “Send him all the heart-eyed emojis already. You look just like it.”

 

Louis giggled, his stomach fluttering with happiness as he followed the suggestion and added the emoji to his text.

 

_ How are you even real? _

 

Harry’s quick response came in three separate texts.

 

**_;)_ **

**_  
_ ** **_Have a good night, baby. See you tomorrow. xx_ **

 

**_Thinking of you. <3_ **

 

“I’ll definitely file this as proof of you being a magical being of some sort.” Louis mumbled silently to the screen and sent a combined thank you and goodnight message back to Harry.

 

Niall snorted again, shifted his eyes from where they were sneakily reading the conversation on the screen to stare straight into Louis’.

 

“You’ve found yourself a sweet man, Lou.” He laid back on his elbow and lightly punched his pillow to fluff it up before laying down. “This is him trusting and respecting you.”

 

Louis silenced his phone and put it on the nightstand before sliding in under his own duvet, pulling it up to his chin. “But isn’t it weird? Isn’t it normal to get at least a little jealous?”

 

Niall’s hand came patting along the empty bed in between them. Louis reached out his hand under the duvet and let Niall take a hold of it.

 

Holding hands was reserved for difficult talks.

 

“No, I don’t think it is normal to take your jealousy out on other people.” Niall said with an unusual pensiveness to his voice. 

 

His regular humorous demeanor subsided and made way to the serious and understanding side of Niall. “It’s common, yes, but it’s not normal. You can easily see how it’s people’s old wounds and hurtful experiences that makes them control their partners in raging jealousy.”

 

Louis knows Niall is one to possess deep wisdom, he’s seen it on countless occasions. The fact that he so rarely lets it out like this, has Louis turning on his side to face Niall and propping his head up on his hand so he could look at him with slight admiration.

 

“Harry didn’t say he wasn’t jealous, maybe he is.” Niall continued, “He probably is, and that’s okay. But he’s being an adult about it, knowing what’s his shit to handle and what’s not.”

 

There was a few minutes of silence. Louis didn’t know how to respond to that and Niall seemed to still be pondering.

 

“Isn’t that the difference between love and… whatever it is that makes people want to control one another?” Niall gestured in the air above him.

 

“Fear?”

 

“Yeah. Harry is making a statement in a way. He’s choosing to give his love, trust and respect to you. But he’s not demanding that you do the same to him.”

 

“I’m too tired to know for sure, but I think I understand the difference. Be in a relationship and give. Not be in a relationship and demand. Got it.”  

 

Louis’ brain was slow this late at night. But Niall did have a point there. Harry gave what he wanted, without expecting Louis to to the same. Instead he left the space open and allowed Louis the choice to reciprocate.

 

“Damn, Ni. You’re making great progress in couples dynamics here.” Louis laughed. “Maybe you should look into the field of couples counselling.”

 

Niall let out one of his signature cackles. “Yeah. Because I have great knowledge and experience in relationships and all that. It’s not that I’m perpetually single or anything.”

 

* * *

 

They rapidly changed topics and kept talking about random, meaningless stuff for a while.

 

Niall knew exactly how to deal with Louis’ fear and avoidance. First letting him breathe a bit by creating distractions and then, “Are you ready to tell me what you wanted?”

 

“Yeah.” Louis sighed and rolled onto his back again so he wouldn’t have to look at Niall when he told the story. He could feel Niall shifting after, turning to lie on his side to watch Louis instead. “You know my first husband was a proper shit, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“And he was abusive.”

 

“Mmm. I’ve gathered that much, yeah.”

 

“Yeah…” Louis sighed again, and slowly, hesitantly he started telling the story about the trauma memory.

 

He told how it had happened and he told how he felt at the time. He told how the therapy was affecting him and how difficult it was to listen to the trauma over and over.

 

Telling Niall was different than telling his psychologist or Harry. Now he was talking  _ about  _ the memory and the things surrounding it, instead of being  _ in _ the memory and everything that it entailed. It was different.

 

The sorrow Louis felt now was not the intense, panicky and fearful one, like he was used to when talking about the memory. This sorrow was further away, less personal in a weird kind of way.

 

In a way, talking about the assault like this, made Louis’ empathy expand to all abuse victims out there. This sorrow was for all the people who were like him. It was for the knowledge that this shit happened to someone, somewhere, every day. It was heartbreaking.

 

Louis was happy that they’d forgone their usual tradition of using a tea light to illuminate the bedroom while they talked away. In the darkness he could hide, focusing on relaxing his body, while shakily telling his story to a crying Niall.

 

* * *

 

“Shit! Lou, I didn’t know…All these years we’ve been friends and I didn’t know.” Niall sounded horrified.

 

“I didn’t  _ want _ you to know. I didn’t want anyone to know.” Louis stated, wiping at his eyes and nose.

 

Why didn’t he ever have tissues around when he started telling his damn stories?

 

Niall made sniveling noises and squeezed Louis hand tightly. It sounded like he needed tissues too.

 

“Who’s Aiden?” He asked.

 

“He was a colleague of mine. We had a little thing for a couple of months a while after all this shit happened. But it never went where I wanted it to go.” Louis said with mixed feelings of sweet nostalgia and the heartache of the betrayal and disappointment that brief sort-of-relationship had ended with.

 

Back then, when his short romance with Aiden had ended, Louis had thought that it was because he’d simply turned out to be a jerk. But now he wondered if it wasn’t Joseph’s violent behaviour that had scared him off. 

 

Joseph did that a lot, scared people away with direct and indirect threats.

 

“This might be a stupid question, but...” Niall started carefully. He picked up his phone and turned on the screen so they got a bit of light and would be able to see. He looked directly into Louis’ eyes. “Why didn’t you leave?”

 

Louis burst out laughing. A wave of affection towards his weird friend rippled through his chest. So typical Niall, to simultaneously be careful and considerate, and straightforward and harsh.  

 

“Yeah mate, that really is a stupid question.” He said once the incredulous laughter had died down. “The answer is stupid too.” He burrowed deeper into his duvet, feeling safe and cared for under it.

 

“Mostly I think I stayed because a large part of me believed him.”

 

“What do you mean?”  

 

“When he said that I was lucky to have him. And that no one else would ever put up with my shit. That I needed him to look after me, keep me in place, since I wasn’t capable of functioning on my own.”

 

Yeah. Louis had believed it. So much that it had become his whole truth. Along with the worthlessness and everything else he’d learned to think of himself.

 

“Oh…” Niall said quietly and then shook his head and huffed angrily, like he was searching for the correct words for what he wanted to say, but didn’t find them.

 

“But mainly it was just easier. To stay, I mean. To not fight it...him.” Louis rubbed his face with both his palms. Hiding, in a way. Covering the part of him that wasn’t under the protection of the fluffy duvet.

 

Since he’d gained so much clarity lately, and so much had been put into place, it was hard to think of how twisted his mind had been back then. And for so long afterwards.

 

“Every couple of years I would gather enough courage and determination to leave him.” Louis continued to speak into the silence of the room. 

 

Niall’s screen had gone dark again and Louis found solace in the darkness. “I would break up with him and move away to my own place.”

 

“I often found some new love interest, probably an unconscious way of helping myself to move on.”

 

“But Joseph was always there threatening them - in Aiden’s case, beating them up. Or just demonstrating in other ways how damn difficult it would be for them to have anything to do with me.”

 

Louis thought about how many times people had suddenly turned weird and hesitant towards him. Or simply left his life, with little or no explanation. 

 

Situations that naturally chiseled off pieces from Louis’ self worth and made him think that it was his fault people left him. That he wasn’t capable of keeping them in his life. That nobody wanted to be with him. 

 

Nobody but Joseph.

 

“Then he harassed me. Until I took him back. It was always easier to take him back.” Louis said with a heavy heart, remembering all the times when he’d felt so defeated, agreeing to get together with Joseph again. And all those times when he was so scared of starting the conversation about breaking up.

 

“But why did you stay so long, Lou? _So_ _long_!” Niall emphasised the last words, sounding really upset. “And with the kids… why did you agree to have kids when he was beating you?” Niall drew in a sharp breath and sat up, sheets rustling and mattress bouncing. “Did he _force_ you to have kids?”

 

Louis was so thankful for the understanding and compassion that Niall showed.

 

“No, Niall, the kids were my choice.”

 

Louis paused. He hated to admit it. He was ashamed and generally tried not to think about the reasons that had given birth to the thought of having children - pun unintended.

 

Looking back now, Louis understood that a lot of his actions used to be sprung out of fear. 

 

Fear of fights, fear of beatings, fear of being ridiculed or otherwise verbally humiliated.

 

“Me wanting children in the first place,” he continued, sadness and shame dripping off his words, “was mostly because of my hope that kids would make our relationship good. Normal. I hoped that if we had children, the fighting would stop.”  

 

“I was pushing for children. I pushed for a surrogate instead of adopting. Thinking that somehow Joseph’s biological children would weigh heavier. That the chances of a better relationship was higher if it was his children.”

 

That was the reason why Jonathan was biologically Joseph’s. Rose was Louis’.

 

There was silence for a long time. Only their breathing and an occasional rustle of the sheets was heard. Louis was starting to think that Niall had fallen asleep, when said Irishman voiced his next question.

 

“But how did you get rid of his sorry arse then?”

 

Louis laughed so hard that the whole bed was shaking. A lot of heavy feelings were lifted in an instance. God. Niall really should get into the business of counselling, with his ability to insert genuine joy in between the rough patches.

 

“He left me. Found someone new and left.” As simple as that.  

 

The first week or so, Louis had been devastated and begged Joseph not to leave him. He had gone through all sorts of trouble in his quest to get his relationship back. He even made some love spell ritual and a mixed CD with all the songs that reminded him of Joseph.

 

Niall was squealing with laughter when Louis relayed that particular information.

 

“Then someone - I think it was Erin - reminded me that him leaving was a good thing. I got over it really quick.” Louis finished.

 

“You know,” Niall started once his wheezing had calmed down. “I think I see you in a whole different light. Now that I have access to this piece that was missing before, a lot of things makes sense.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. <3   
> Leave a comment, they brighten my day.


	14. The Lads Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No triggers! :) 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Radioactive - Imagine Dragons  
> Never Enough - One Direction  
> A.M. - One Direction  
> Little Talks - Of Monsters And Men
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

The first week of May was a cold one. On most mornings the morning dew was turned into a silvery white and sparkling blanket of frost, that covered the small grassy patch outside of Louis’ kitchen window, making it look like late November.

 

Due to anxiety induced insomnia, Louis had been up early enough to witness it four mornings in a row.

 

He couldn’t help the distress that his mind had so stubbornly created. The idea of being undeserving of something good - of Harry - was deeply rooted in him. No matter how much his logical thinking was fighting back, the feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy still created fears and doubts.  

 

It was those fears and nagging worries that kept him awake at night, most of them were about Harry leaving him. Or about Harry finding someone else and then leaving him. Or maybe Harry was only stringing him along for shits and giggles. Then, when he was tired of it, he would leave  _ and  _ laugh at him.

 

All that left Louis in a near constant need of reassurance. He needed daily - sometimes hourly - reminders that that wasn’t going to happen, that Harry was with him willingly and honestly.

 

Now that Harry wasn’t there, Louis’ world kind of crumbled a little. Yes, Louis knew that it was stupid and he wasn’t proud of these thoughts and feelings of his. But he couldn’t do a fuck about it, now could he?

 

A few days after Louis and Harry’s first sexual experience together, Harry had been called away to help at a home for troubled teenagers. They had a programme for wilderness therapy, one that Harry himself had founded a few years back. And now they apparently were short staffed while the current group of youngsters were particularly troubled.

 

While Louis really admired the fire that burned so much brighter within Harry when he talked about his work, especially helping young people, his abrupt departure had left Louis a little uneasy - to put it mildly.

 

“Think about it Lou.” Harry had said while flurrying around his bedroom and strategically packing his robust, dark blue backpack. “How wonderful it is, helping kids these days to heal their wounds and deal with their issues  _ before _ they fully reach adulthood.”

 

Louis had thought about it. A lot. Both earlier in his life and during the week and a half Harry had been gone. 

 

Each time Louis thought about how his life could have gone differently, he thought about how it might have been if someone had seen him and helped him when he was still a teenager.

 

Knowing what he knew now, and feeling that most of his life was wasted to destructive behavior because he was unable to see the extent of his own brokenness, he fully agreed with Harry. 

 

The world would be so much more beautiful if people were given the chance to heal themselves earlier in life, instead of waiting for mid-life crisis.

 

Of course Louis understood that not everyone went through the traumatic events that he had endured. But he also understood that deep and long lasting traumatic wounds in a person were caused by situations far less horrible than than common belief dictated.

 

So yeah, if people didn’t have to spend half their lives in some foggy version of made up normalcy, who knew what kind of wonders humanity would achieve.

 

* * *

 

Harry was due home any minute. And by home Louis meant at his place, here, with him - not at Harry’s actual flat. Who cared where he really lived, now that Louis would get to kiss him any minute. 

 

He felt almost lightheaded with anticipation as he nervously paced around the flat, waiting for his boyfriend.  

 

After a week and a half of minimal contact with Harry, Louis felt like he’d been successful in dealing with his issue of feeling unworthy of Harry and all his wonderfulness. Maybe his sudden work out of town had been more helpful than not.

 

At one point Louis had become aware of that the undeserving, fearful and controlling part of him was a little bit smaller now than it had been years before - when he last had a boyfriend. 

 

Because there, in the background noise, was the part that Louis had recognised as strong, resilient and independent. The one that had kept him alive through everything. He then focused on how he could make that part grow.

 

Yet, remnants of his recent anxiety filled nights were still present in his system, clearly thrumming below the surface. The worthlessness with all it’s fears and doubts was no longer prominent, but the irritability of several days of uneasiness was there. It was a reminder of that all the ‘what if’s could come to life again at any time.

 

Louis just needed Harry’s presence to calm him.  _ God, fucking… clingy! _

 

The boys had come over a while earlier to help prepare for lad’s night. 

 

At any given moment at least one of them snickered at Louis because of this manic scurrying around the flat. Speeding through the rooms as if he was being hunted down by vicious creatures. 

 

What a basket case, yes, Louis knew. Nervously pacing back and forth was the way he dealt with things.

 

Steve, with his raven hair tied up in a bun and a loose tank top in a matching colour hanging off his shoulders, was rummaging through the fridge and muttering about it looking like health central, what with the entire middle shelf filled with leafy greens.

 

Niall had taken his phone and fled into the loo a good twenty minutes ago. Because of that, Liam had been given the task of looking through the cupboards for snacks.

 

“It’s the same thing here, mate. There are like, one, two, three...” he started counting, hanging off the cupboard doors with both hands on the handles of said doors. He leaned slightly forward and eyed the shelves filled with jars and containers. “...seven different kinds of seeds in here!” Liam said in an unbelieving voice.

 

Steve moved sideways the three steps it took from the fridge to where Liam was standing and peeked inside the pantry. After a few seconds of intense monitoring he picked up a packet, turned around and looked pointedly at Louis with his eyebrows raised.

 

“Alfalfa seeds? Really, Lou?”

 

Louis shrugged. “Harry bought them, they’re healthy. You’re supposed to sprout them and eat them on your salad.”

 

His hand came up to scratch his neck as he tried to remember what Harry had told him. Something about iron and vitamins, Louis had no clue. But he had enjoyed the way Harry seemed to have been lit up from the inside when he was explaining the benefits of sprouts on salad, the nutritional difference between seeds and sprouts and how to make your own sprouts.

 

“Sprouts you say?” Steve snickered amusingly, and leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting to hear an explanation.

 

Louis decided not to get defensive about it. His nerves wouldn’t really allow any focus to be put on that right now. Anyway, sprouts were really delicious on a salad.

 

“Harry brings a lot of stuff here these days, now does he?” Liam added, both of them looking smug as hell. Louis rolled his eyes.  

 

Niall walked in, apparently done contaminating the bathroom, and caught the end part of that conversation. Or teasing session was more like it. Children, was what they were.

 

“Yeah,” he said and picked up a large chunk of rose quartz from where it was placed next to a purple cluster of amethyst on the windowsill. “Like… What  _ is _ this?”

 

“That’s a crystal. Rose quartz.” Louis answered the question, sounding a lot more sure of his words than he actually was.

 

“Okay,” Niall said, slowing down his voice in a manner that you might use when trying to calm down a lunatic. “But  _ why _ do  _ you _ have it?”

 

Louis met all three expectant faces with with an incredulous look. 

 

“What’s with the juvenile interrogation here?” He too crossed his arms over his chest, taking on a defensive posture.

 

“The crystals are supposed to give off good energies. That one is helping me with anxiety and fear and guilt and other stuff.” He pointed at the rock that Niall was now playing with, flying it around whilst making a small humming noise, like it was a plane or a spaceship - seriously, children, the whole bunch of them!

 

“How-” Liam started asking, but Louis cut him off.

 

“I don’t know how, Liam. You’ll have to ask Harry.”

 

“But you have these crystal things everywhere.” Liam said, wide eyed like he was trying to convey the severity of his statement with his eyes.

 

“It’s like a hippie threw up in here!” Niall concluded with a grimace that was somewhere between revulsion and joy, before he redirected his focus to the rose quartz spaceship.

 

Louis huffed. Everybody else laughed.

 

“All I know is that all crystals have different properties and help with different issues. Ask Harry, he’s the hippie.”

 

They were right though. His flat was full of small signs of Harry. Louis loved the way that Harry had so quickly started leaving traces after him. How he’d molded into Louis’ life. 

 

Quietly and loudly at the same time.

 

Various crystals littered flat surfaces in all rooms. Harry brought a few with him almost every time he came over, placed them here and there while he recited the stones’ different attributes and the reasons he’d brought them.

 

Organic food had started appearing in the fridge. Another yoga mat had made it’s way to the corner of the living room -  _ “It’s not fulfilling to watch and wait when someone else does yoga, Lou,” _ Harry had said,  _ “Surely there will be a time when we both have a need for yoga at the same time.” _

 

Harry’s clothes were often in the hamper, and naturally they could be found on the shelves of Louis’ closet when the hamper was empty. 

 

Harry’s sweet smelling shower cream was put among all the bottles that usually resided on the edge of the bathtub. If Louis used it more often than not, nobody had to know.

 

The thing was, it wasn’t intrusive, like Louis had felt with previous boyfriends. Not at all. It was harmonious, the way Harry’s presence was unmistakable in Louis’ home. Like he had always been there. Or had always meant to be there.

 

Louis often found himself revelling in the sweet feeling of not being alone. He liked that Harry unabashedly took the space he needed in Louis’ life. He gave so freely and willingly, but he also took. 

 

Kindly and confidently Harry claimed his place. And it was so welcomed by Louis, so very welcomed.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell rang.  _ Finally _ . Louis scrambled towards the hallway, but Steve was closer and raced to the door.

 

Apparently he’d decided to bring out his inner five year old - probably to keep Niall’s inner baby company. He almost took down the coat rack when he tried to keep his balance, sliding across the floor on socked feet.

 

“Ha! Loooser!” He taunted, before swinging the door open with force to reveal a slightly frightened Harry. Then he just skipped away into the kitchen again.

 

How did Louis ever become friends with such weirdos?

 

Harry stepped inside with fond smile and a shake of his head, clearly directed at the previously mentioned weirdo. He was followed by an unfamiliar dark haired man, both of them carried bags in both hands. At the same time, Liam stuck out his curious head from the kitchen and greeted the newcomers.

Louis was aware that he might come off as a bit rude to Harry’s friend, but he couldn’t for the life of him take his eyes off Harry. Eleven days of not seeing each other and Louis had forgotten how insanely good he looked. Louis was mesmerised.

 

How could anyone even be that beautiful? His curls were glossy and - well, curly. There was a hint of stubble on his chin and his lips were pink and shiny and delicious. And his eyes-  his eyes were displaying the combined beauty of everything wonderful in the universe. 

 

“Hi,” Louis mouthed, because apparently his voice was in shock over Harry’s beauty and wouldn’t work as intended. He’d never get over it, Louis thought, feeling every bit of a teenager with a massive, paralyzing crush.

 

“Hi,” Harry mouthed back, just as silent. He was smiling so brightly and beautifully, that Louis was sure he would die just because of that.

 

“Ahh,  _ shit _ . Mate, you better come in here, before you’re forced to witness these two doing unspeakable things.” Liam’s voice registered somewhere in Louis mind. “I’m Liam, by the way.”

 

“Yeah,“ Harry’s friend laughed and followed Liam. “I’m Zayn.”

 

Louis stood back, just looking at Harry, not daring to make a move. Luckily Harry was fearless and strode over to Louis to wrap him up in a crushing hug.

 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby.” He breathed in and held Louis so tightly around his waist.

 

“I’ve missed you too.” Louis admitted quietly while nuzzling Harry’s neck, feeling a little delirious from the scent and the warmth he was radiating.  

 

He looked up and released his arms from around Harry’s neck. Then he leaned in to press their lips together and got lost in the intoxicating feeling that was Harry’s kisses.

 

* * *

 

Who knew how long it took for them to emerge from their little meeting in the hallway. But when they finally stepped into the kitchen, hand in hand and looking somewhat disheveled, the atmosphere was a bit chaotic, you could say.

 

A wide-eyed and pink-faced Niall was sitting quietly on the chair in the furthest corner by the kitchen table. Steve was arranging plates of various snacks on the table looking all smug.

 

Liam was standing with his hands on his hips, oversized grey hoodie hanging low, reaching his jean-clad thighs. He was furiously explaining to Zayn that they didn’t usually drink alcohol when lads night was held at Louis’.

 

Zayn was all cool and unbothered when he reached into the re-usable bag to get the last two bottles and put them on the counter. “Yeah, I know. Harry told me.”

 

“Then why the fuck-”

 

“Relax, man, this is all non-alcoholic.” Zayn said in a calm deep voice and gestured breezily to the many colourful bottles lined up on the counter.

 

Louis felt a surge of love and gratitude towards Liam. His friends were complete weirdos, but they would never fail to step up and defend and protect Louis (or anyone else they loved) at the drop of a hat.

 

He approached Zayn with his right hand held out in greeting. “Hi. I’m Louis. Sorry for being rude and not introducing myself earlier, but-” he cut off and shrugged, eyes twinkling with mirth as he looked back at a goofily smiling Harry “I claim temporary insanity.”

 

Zayn let out a loud cackle as he took Louis’ hand. “Zayn. And it’s fine, I could tell that you were...erhm, preoccupied.” He smirked. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing all this here. Technically it’s work, but I thought it’d be fun to share the experiments.” he nodded towards the twenty or so bottles on the counter.

 

Harry hooked his chin over Louis’ shoulder, “Zayn doesn’t drink alcohol either,“ he said to Liam. “Even though he spends most of his time in bars across the world.”

 

Understanding flashed in Liam’s eyes. “Are you an alcoholic too?” he asked,

 

“Nahh man,” Zayn smiled, “I’ve just seen too much of the shit drinking does. So I made the decision to stay away from alcohol.” He laughed and then continued, “Well, staying away might be the wrong thing to say, since I work as a bartender and all, but I don’t drink it.”

 

“Oh…” Liam nodded in comprehension and Niall let out a pitiful whine from his corner.

 

“What’s with Irish in the corner there?” Louis asked, walking past Liam and Zayn towards the kitchen table.

 

“You mean you don’t recognise the quiet and shy version of Niall? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has a crush.” Steve smirked evilly.

 

The comment was rewarded with a grape thrown at his face.

 

Niall’s face returned into a bright reddish colour from where it had started to fade to it’s normal pale self.  

 

Louis smiled excitedly, this was intriguing. It wasn’t very often anyone caught Niall’s interest. It certainly never had happened upon the first meeting. Louis wasn’t sure if that was a possibility even.

 

“And if I’m interpreting this whining correctly,” Steve continued his analysis, “he thinks sober bartenders are hot.”

 

Another grape came flying.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, they were all seated by the table. Conversation and playful banter flowing easily, as it usually did between friends. Most of the snacks were long gone, leaving the table filled with empty dishes piled up on one side.

 

Zayn turned out to be a great bartender and they’d all enjoyed drinking his colourful concoctions and experimental recipes. It was a good thing that Louis had millions of old jam jars in his cupboards, because with six men drinking that many different drinks, all his glassware were quickly used up.  

 

“Stop with the heart-eyes again.” Someone - Louis didn’t care who -  groaned with exasperation dripping off his voice. They had been accused of that a lot. Louis didn’t care. He was happy and Harry was next to him.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Louis sipped on the remainder of a pale purple drink - a lavender coconut something with lots of ice. That one was his favorite, he decided. That, and sitting within cuddling distance of Harry the entire evening. 

 

Louis felt naively happy, almost like alcohol was flowing through him but without the sluggish wooziness. Maybe his brain thought he was supposed to be drunk. Maybe it was Harry buzzing in his veins.

 

Niall had calmed down after his third drink. His body sure was interpreting the drinks the same way it would with alcoholic ones. At one point he had confided in Louis that he wasn’t prepared to suddenly feel so out of place. Zayn was beautiful. Niall’s brain had short circuited.

 

“Do you have a crush on him?” Louis whispered, leaning in towards Niall while still keeping his hand on Harry’s thigh.

  
“Mate,” Niall eyed Louis incredulously. “That’s not possible. I don’t do crushes.” he hissed.

 

It was true. Niall didn’t do crushes. He didn’t really do relationships of any kind. He gladly shared platonic intimacy with the people he loved and trusted, his friends and family. But he never really developed romantic or sexual interest toward anyone.

 

To Louis knowledge, there had once been one person that Niall thought he might eventually fall in love with and possibly develop an intimate relationship with. But the girl lost her patience long before Niall got to that point. Perhaps she never really understood why Niall was the way he was.

 

“Don’t let the labels restrict you, Niall.” Louis tried to be supportive without invalidating his friend.

 

“It’s just,” Niall whispered, eyes wild “I’m really confused by my reaction and all the things happening. This is not how I do things. I don’t know what’s happening. This fucking pull towards him is throwing me off entirely.”

 

“I think that means you’re supposed to talk to him.” Louis smirked, bumping his shoulder on Niall’s.

 

Niall paled at the comment and stared resolutely at the empty jar in his hands.

 

Louis attention was drawn to the conversation happening on the other side of the table.

 

“I can’t wait for summer, when we’ll be able to have barbecues at Steve’s all the time.” Liam exclaimed longingly and excitedly from where he was sat opposite of Louis, right between Steve and Zayn. 

 

“Steve has a house with a garden and everything.” Liam told Zayn.

 

“Can’t have barbies at mine once the baby has come.”

 

“Why?” Liam asked dumbly, brown eyes wide with horror. He was probably visualising all the barbecued food running away from him. At least Louis was visualising that for him.

 

“Are you quitting food once the baby comes?” Liam continued questioning.

 

“Are you not supposed to eat when being a parent?” Harry chimed in.  

 

“Is that why Lou and Liam are so skinny?” Niall finally piped up from his corner as he joined in on the banter.

 

Louis smiled proudly at him overcoming his - whatever had Niall behave so unlike him. He also noticed Zayn’s gaze softening as it was directed towards Niall and the appreciative smile that was playing on his lips.

 

“Oi!” Steve objected and threw a piece of something from one of the plates at Niall.

 

“Why are people always fucking throwing things in this kitchen?” Louis asked and tried not to think about how he had had a carrot fight with the kids here just a few nights ago. 

 

He also didn’t think about the fact that he was the one to start it.

 

Steve explained that he didn’t want to subject his child to the rowdy gatherings that usually was their barbecues. Louis pointed out that they could incorporate a new rule, always sober at Steve’s, just like the calm gatherings at Louis’. 

 

Steve scoffed at the statement and muttered something about Louis’ definition of calm, but said he would think about it - no promises made.

 

Louis then had a lengthy squabble with Niall about politics. Both of them took several turns to thoroughly explain their side and then suddenly with a final nod, they just dropped the subject.

 

Both Liam and Zayn reacted to this with a small kind of outrage.

 

“What, you’re just dropping it?” Liam asked, to which Louis and Niall nodded in unison.

 

“Just like that?” Zayn seemed more impressed.

 

“Just like that.” Louis confirmed.

 

“But why?”

 

“Because there’s no need to discuss it further.” Niall explained simply, like it was obvious. “I know my opinion, and now I know Louis’ opinion.” He finished with a little shrug.

 

“But you’re not even agreeing on it.” Liam pressed, looking like he might start pulling his hair out.

 

“So?” Louis sent him a look that told Liam exactly how crazy he was being.

 

“This isn’t settled.” Liam’s voice was a bit squeaky. Zayn laughed. See, Zayn got this.

 

“Of course it is settled.” Niall the Wise responded, clearly pleased that Zayn seemed to understand. Or that he was driving Liam crazy. Maybe it was a bit of both. “We both know where we stand. We both respect the others opinion and right to an opinion.”

 

“Would you like us to try to convert the other one?” Louis asked, tilting his head mockingly to the side as he continued, “That’s not really respectful, Lima.”

 

Zayn nodded, “This exactly, is what the term agree to disagree means.”

 

Liam gasped and shot Zayn a look of utter betrayal.

 

* * *

 

Once kid talk had been brought up Harry kept returning to that same topic. Not even the long political disagreement that ended in an agreement - apart from Liam’s discontent - kept the topic from reappearing.

 

Harry kept discussing kids. He asked Steve pregnancy related questions and urged him to talk about the preparations for the baby they’d made. He asked Liam about his daughter and wanted to know about different stages of toddler development.

 

He told Zayn stories about Rose and Jonathan too. Louis watched how Harry excitedly told his best friend that he had bought Jon a shirt with some sort of satanic theme Louis knew nothing about. Jonathan had been so happy and pleased with the shirt.

 

Harry was wheezing with laughter and barely got the words out, “And... th- then he said...he...said ‘I’m gonna go poop with my new shirt on’!” Harry was doubled over,  squealing and all red in the face with his eyes shut tight, he was laughing so hard. 

 

Either nobody got the joke or it wasn’t really that funny, because no one else was laughing.

 

Louis couldn’t help to be a bit - okay, a lot - endeared by that.  _ God. _ Harry had his own private jokes with his son.  _ His _ son.

 

Harry even scrolled through his phone to show pictures to Zayn. Of the shirt, he assumed, but it turned out to be pictures of Jonathan  _ in _ the shirt. Louis was baffled. Why did Harry get to take pictures of him?

 

Louis always had to stealthily approach Jonathan with a camera if he wanted a picture. It was a difficult task, which was why there weren’t many photos of him after the age of ten. Besides, it was a violation of privacy, so Louis tried to avoid secretly photographing his children. But sometimes he just wanted to have some photos of his kids. Like  _ all _ the other parents got to! Damn it.

 

And then. Then Harry started talking passionately about having his own kids in the future and how he felt it was soon time to start planning for that. He wasn’t getting any younger, Harry’s bubbly voice broadcasted.

 

Louis went cold with dread. He felt his heart stop and his stomach turn into ice. 

 

Harry wanted children of his own.  _ Of course _ Harry wanted children of his own.

 

Louis wasn’t going to have any more kids. He had decided years ago that he was done procreating. 

 

He had two beautiful children. Teenagers, basically. One to grab in each arm and run, if need be. No more. Louis would not father any more children. He had no arms left for more children. He couldn’t bare the thought of having to leave one of his children behind, because he couldn’t carry one of them when his arms were already full.

 

Steve sent Louis worried looks as he was quickly spiraling. He knew that Louis had made up his mind about kids, and no doubt he knew that Louis was in the process of digging himself deeper and deeper into the horrible depths of his own personal hell.

 

“Hey, Lou? You wanna go outside with me for a second?” Steve asked with urgency in his voice as he suddenly got up from his chair. He stood behind Harry and held a hand out for Louis.

 

The rest of the table looked at them quizzically and Harry seemed to notice that Louis was agitated. He pressed a quick kiss on Louis’ forehead. “Go ahead. I’ll start straightening up here with the boys.”   

 

It was almost midnight. Normally, Louis would protest and resolutely decline such a suggestion, but this time the thought of the chilled night air was appealing.

 

He followed Steve outside, zipping up his coat as the descended the stairs. They went around the back and took a seat on the wooden bench situated next to the birch trees at the grassy patch.   

 

“You wanna tell me about it?” Steve leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he looked at Louis.

 

Louis sunk back against the bench. He looked up at the building in front of them. It was dark, most of his neighbours seemed to be asleep. He could see the light from his kitchen window and some shadows moving about. They really were tidying up the place up there.  

 

“I panicked.” Louis stated.

 

“Mmm. I figured that much.”

 

They saw Liam rounding the corner and leave towards the parking lot. They both waved at him silently.

 

“I feel I don’t deserve him, that I shouldn’t be with him.” Louis said quietly. “Maybe more like he shouldn’t be with me.”

 

Steve hummed in a way that familiar way that sounded a little like he didn’t really believe Louis.

 

“I... I think I might love him, Steve.” Louis inhaled deeply, looking up at where the stars would be if it wasn’t so damn cloudy. 

 

Then he whispered, “And now I’m ruining his life by not wanting kids.”

 

Steve leaned back and slouched down on the bench, imitating Louis posture. 

 

The squeaking of Louis’ balcony door opening scared some nocturnal birds into flight and the flapping of wings and rustling of birch branches startled them both.

 

“You should talk to him.” Steve nodded up against the balcony, where Harry was leaning out over the railing, looking up and down the streets. “It might not be as much of a deal breaker or game changer as you imagine.”

 

Louis waved to catch Harry’s attention and signal his whereabouts. Silently he just nodded at Louis and went inside, the door making that horrible squeaking again. The birds scrambled about again. Or were they maybe bats?

 

“I should let him go, that’s what I should do.” Louis argued stubbornly. Then he admitted, “But at the same time, I don’t want to do that. I want to be selfish and keep him all to myself. For ever.”

 

“Talk to him, Lou.” Steve stood up and started walking towards the entrance door again.

 

Louis followed reluctantly. When they reached the door they saw the retreating figures of one Niall and one Zayn further down the road. 

 

They shared a look as they stepped inside the stairwell. That was interesting.

 

“I’m going home too.” Steve said and hugged Louis before he had the chance to start climbing the stairs.

 

It wasn’t until Louis opened the door to his flat that he heard Steve open the entrance door and leave. That sneaky bastard stayed and made sure that Louis would go home where he’d be taken care of. Steve was the best.  

 

Harry approached carefully when Louis was toeing off his shoes and peeling off his coat.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? 
> 
> There's less than half the fic left, but Louis will learn to love himself, don't worry. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. <3


	15. The Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:**  
>  Insecurities and angsty talks.   
> Smut. :D
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Sweet Creature - Harry Styles  
> I Knew I Loved You - Savage Garden  
> Emperor’s New Clothes - Panic! At The Disco  
> Lemon Tree - Fools Garden
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

Another early morning found Louis seated by the kitchen window with a scorching cup of fennel tea pleasantly warming his hands. 

 

The usual knitted socks, sweatpants and t-shirt covered his body beneath the robe. The kitchen clock was slowly moving past six as Louis took note of the outside world. 

 

The beginning of the day went about in a similar routine as every other morning had been lately. The difference was that now Harry was in Louis’ bed, heavily asleep. It seemed to be warmer outside too, no traces of frost on the fresh green grass. If the brightness this early was anything to go by, the sun was promising a beautiful day - as it should in the early summer. 

 

It was almost like the weather had agreed with Louis’ - there was no reason for joy when Harry was absent, but now that he was here, light and warmth was allowed.

 

The night before hadn’t ended in difficult talks and possible break-ups, like Louis had dreaded it would. It ended in kisses and cuddles and sweetness in bed. The making up for lost time and washing away the intense craving for intimacy was more important than all of Louis’ demons and their offspring. 

 

Louis had set the table in preparation for breakfast. Two pale green plates were neatly placed on opposite sides of the table, the toaster was taken from it’s place on the sideboard and put in the middle of the table for easy access. The bread, butter, marmalade and a couple of weird vegan spreads had also made their way to the table, along with sliced cucumber and bell pepper.

 

Soon a sleepily smiling Harry came shuffling into the kitchen, shirtless and with the checkered pyjama bottoms hanging low on his hips, his sleep tousled hair pointing in every direction. He was gorgeous.  

 

“Mmm, that looks delicious.” He eyed the breakfast table as he walked to Louis, leaned in and pressed a series of sweet kisses on his lips. “Good morning, baby.”

 

“Morning.” Louis responded into the kiss, thankful that he got to experience it. He wanted to appreciate the moment with every one of his senses, and memorise it the best he could. 

 

He wanted to be able to remember the way Harry’s stubble scratched against his chin. And the stale taste of pink lips in the morning, the soft and warm smell of sleepy Harry, the little humming sound he made and the absolutely stunning clarity of green when he slowly blinked his eyes open after they broke apart. 

 

So perfectly beautiful.   

 

Louis had been expecting nerves or mild anxiety to peak up all morning. After all, he was about to bring up topics he was pretty sure would end their relationship. But all he felt was a strange type of calmness. Perhaps he’d already resigned completely, no need to panic over things already set in stone.

 

Harry took a seat on his appointed chair and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. 

 

“Do you want tea?” Louis asked, standing up and reaching for the kettle before he even got an answer. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Aside from Harry commenting approvingly on the tastes and Louis’ nods and short one word responses, they ate mostly in silence. Harry’s toes kept poking Louis’ feet, sending surges of warm feelings through his body. Louis wanted to keep this. He really, really wanted to keep this.  

 

“Can-” Louis cleared his voice once breakfast was done, “Can we talk about it?” 

 

Harry shot him a questioning look from where he was sipping on the last of his tea. 

 

“Erm… about what happened yesterday?” He clarified.  

 

“Of course we can, Lou. What part do you want to talk about?”

 

Louis wished he could just telepathically transfer every thought and feeling to Harry, so he wouldn’t have to put them in words. 

 

Words were difficult and he felt so damn vulnerable. The only thing comforting him was knowing that his boyfriend - soon to be ex-boyfriend? - wouldn’t judge or ridicule him. 

 

Louis hung his head and let his shoulders slump over. “I can’t shake the thought that I don’t deserve you.” He confessed and sounded pitiful even in his own ears. 

 

He resolutely kept his eyes on the breakfast leftovers and nervously picked on the butter knife on his plate as he continued. “That’s paired with some fear of you leaving me. Steve says i’m being irrational.” 

 

The always present need to declare that he’s well aware that he’s being stupid - and that everyone knows it, couldn’t be kept from his admission.

 

“Lou…” Harry started, “I’m not leaving you, I have told you that much.”

 

Louis nodded, eyes glued to the table. Harry had told him, but his insecurities didn’t care. 

 

Harry then proceeded with a long, soothing repetition of how he wasn’t going to leave Louis, how his own desires and free will kept him there. 

 

“I know that the undeserving feelings take a long time to shake, I know you can’t really control them.” Harry continued. “But let me ask you this, do  _ you _ want to end our relationship?”  

 

Louis eyes shot up and he gave Harry a horrified look. At the same time his stomach sank to the ground - he didn’t mean for Harry to start doubting them, doubting him.

 

“No, Harry, no!” he furiously shook his head. “I don’t  _ want _ to end our relationship, but it’s not that simple.” He stated resolutely. 

 

“If you listen to your heart and your heart only-” 

 

“It is my heart doing the talking, Harry!“ Louis shook his head as desperation entered his voice. 

 

“Yesterday, when you talked about how you wanted kids... I just panicked and everything got weird and I… I knew-” he cut off.

 

Harry drew in a loud, deep breath and came around the table to kneel at Louis side. He wormed his arms around Louis’ waist, laid with his chest on his lap and pressed his face against his stomach. 

 

Hesitantly Louis put his hands on Harry, one hand in his curls and the other stroking his shirtless, muscular upper back. 

 

“You sounded so happy, Harry. So excited with the thought of having your own kids.” 

 

Tears were burning in Louis’ eyes. Damn, he had cried more these past few months than he had done in his entire life before. “And I… I’m not having any more kids.”

 

“Baby-” Harry mumbled into Louis shirt as he tightened his hold. Louis kept combing through his curls and stroking his back and shoulders and wondered who was comforting who here. 

 

“I can’t do that to you, love. I can’t be that selfish. God knows I  _ want _ to be exactly that selfish, but it’s not fair of me to hold you back like that.” Louis choked out, a vicious ache spreading inside his chest.

 

There was a long moment of silence, nothing but two sets of irregular breathing and a few sounds of the city outside could be heard. 

 

Harry loosened his grip and slid back a bit. He rested his head on Louis’ lap instead, breath calming down and stare fixed on nothing. 

 

“Louis, baby,“ Harry decided to sit up and let his hands slide along the outsides of Louis’ thighs.

 

Louis dropped his hands into his lap as Harry looked at him with so much adoration. 

 

“This is one of my favourite things about you. This selflessness and empathy and consideration that comes so naturally to you.” Harry squeezed his thighs and searched for his hands without his gaze ever leaving Louis’.   

 

“I’m sorry that my inconsiderate babbling caused you pain.” Harry’s eyes were sure and intense. 

 

“I got ahead of myself and didn’t take your thoughts and feelings into consideration. I’m so sorry.” Harry said, eyes wide, green and pleading. 

 

Louis couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him a little. On his forehead, on the corner of his eye, on the top of his cheek, wherever he could reach until Harry tilted his head up so Louis could reach his lips.

 

“I’m sorry too...”

 

“I want you to know,” Harry continued, smiling and licking his upper lip after the kiss. “That this is a new desire of mine. I’ve never really thought much about having kids. This image has gotten into my head since I met you.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

Harry’s voice was soft and deep. “Yeah. I feel like you are the one I could to that with.” he said, with a kiss to Louis left palm. “But this isn’t anything we even need to discuss at this point, we can wait a year or two.” He promised playfully.

 

Louis was a bit puzzled with how easy this all seemed to Harry, while he himself had nothing but questions and worries floating around. Sure, he was calmer now. Maybe they didn’t have to break up after all, but there were still all sorts of questions and worries. 

 

“You don’t think that I’m holding you back then?” Louis asked carefully “That our relationship- that I’m ruining your life by not wanting more children?”

 

“My wonderful, beautiful, sweet Lou.” Harry sighs as he stands up on his knees so that he’s face to face with Louis. He looks him at him intently, clearly willing Louis to just understand what he means.

 

“These past few moments I’ve been faced with the image of a life without you and the image of a life without babies with you. The first one sent daggers piercing my entire my body. The mere thought is so painful that I don’t even want it to enter my consciousness. The second image only makes me a little disappointed and sad, nothing I can’t deal with.” Harry declared with finality. 

 

He kissed Louis with the same determination as his words were spoken. Then he rose up and started to clear the table, obviously done talking about it.

 

Louis sat quiet for a while, absorbing what had been said. He had to trust Harry’s words here and not let the whispers of his past experiences dictate his current state of being. 

 

He was worth some happiness, damn it. He wanted Harry and Harry wanted him back, that had to be enough. 

 

Unless...

 

“But what if we don’t work?” Louis blurted out his thoughts. 

 

Harry was standing at the fridge, putting away the butter and vegetables. He didn’t seem at all phased by the question. Didn’t even turn to look at Louis, just smiled serenely at the food on the shelves.

 

“We will work. I knew that before I even met you.” 

 

Louis loved this idea of purpose behind all the meetings and connections that seemed so random. He loved the idea of soulmates and the notion of just  _ knowing  _ when someone was right for you and when it’s meant to be, meant to last.

 

In a way Louis knew exactly what Harry meant, because he felt some weird sort of pull,  interest or whatever from the start. But he had difficulties believing in it as naturally and wholeheartedly as Harry did.

 

“I know we’re new, but I have no doubts that we will last a very, very long time, if we both allow it.” Harry closed the door and turned to face Louis, who was putting down the empty cups in the sink.

 

Yeah. Louis really needed to stop fighting against everything, didn’t he? He was constantly resisting every phenomenal aspect that Harry’s presence brought into his life.   

 

“I’m sorry I’m this dense.” Louis stepped into Harry’s space and rested his forehead on his shoulder. It was the perfect height, perfect spot. 

 

“Always craving and demanding reassurance... It must be very difficult on you. I’m sorry.” He murmured, eyes closed and just breathing in the warm scent of bare skin.

 

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, sliding his hands up and down Louis’ back. “Yeah, I get sad when you think that little of yourself.” he said. “And when you don’t believe me... But I get it, I really do. I know where this need is coming from. And I’m more than willing to wait it out.” 

 

“You sure?” 

 

“Yeah. Now how about you and me go on a camping trip? We’ll stay for a few days, just feed off nature’s energy. Heal a bit together?” Harry’s tone was suddenly a lot more upbeat and carefree.    

 

Snickering, Louis reminded him of that a camping trip would have to wait a few weeks at least. But if they showered first, maybe they could do something just as fun and a bit less demanding afterwards. 

 

* * *

 

Since Louis was still a bit needy and on edge, he decided that a shared shower was the only way to go about the showering business on that particular morning. 

 

A shared shower lead to shared appreciation of gorgeous, soap-slippery naked bodies, that quickly escalated to shared, heated hand jobs. 

 

It was an awkward angle, where Louis stood in the bathtub pressed against the wet, white tiles of the bathroom wall. Shower sex wasn’t anything that he’d favored in the past - an overrated and uncomfortable safety hazard was what it was. 

 

But if standing here with Harry’s hard and heavy dick in hand wasn’t one of the best sexual encounters he’d ever experienced, he didn’t know what was.

 

Harry’s steaming, firm body pushed against his in a way that created oh so delicious friction on Louis’ dick, trapped between the two of them, pressing against Harry’s hip. 

 

Louis alternated between pumping the rock hard shaft and lathering and massaging Harry’s balls, drawn in so tight, so firm and sexy. 

 

“Slippery... s-so hot, soap covered like this.” Louis whispered breathlessly. It was mouth watering, really. 

 

“Lou…”

 

Hearing Harry’s moans mix in with his own panting and whining was pushing Louis towards the edge a lot faster than he wanted. God, he wanted to have Harry like this, to hear him like this, forever.  

 

Harry shifted with urgency in his movement, and sneaked in a hand between their wet bodies and wrapped his fingers around Louis thick length. Barely had he gotten a real grip before a loud  _ Oh God  _ left Harry’s lips and he came with a drawn out moan. 

 

The grip on Louis’ dick tightened, like Harry was holding on for dear life. Louis desperation grew and he was fiercely rutting against Harry. Pushing into his hand a few more times before his movements stilled entirely for a second or two, as his orgasm hit with an amazing force.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Lou, let’s go find you a tree.” Harry urged on with a dimpled smile. 

 

In their foggy post-shower, post-orgasmic haze they had decided that the fun thing to do that day was a walk in the woods on the outskirts of town. 

 

Which then lead to Harry’s idea about Louis needing his own tree. And now he stood in the hallway with one one of his hiking boots on and the other in hand. One leg of his jeans was pulled up halfway to the knee and his socks were pulled up taut. With a giddy, childish bounce in his body, he cocked his head toward the front door several times. Possibly in an attempt to get Louis to hurry up and get his own shoes on.

 

He was so endearing. Louis was powerless to do anything but smile back at him in wonder. In fact, he stood there staring for so long that Harry took his hand with a laugh and led him to sit down so he could put Louis’ shoes on him, all while lovingly muttering about being useless.   

 

* * *

They walked and talked for a long time. Both of them constantly commented on how beautiful the forest was in early summer. 

 

Everything was so bright and the freshly green colour of summer was starting to spread. 

 

The wood anemone was in full bloom on the hillsides. It covered large areas in crisp white, star shaped blossoms, thus hiding the dry, brown ground that was last year’s withered plant life.

 

The sun filtered through the treetops, illuminating the thick, dark green moss that covered stones and tree trunks. Birds were being noisy - “It’s called chirping, Louis.” Harry interjected Louis’ observations in his deep rumble of a voice - and the faint wind was rustling the newly developed leaves. It was truly magical.  

 

On the promenade to the wooded area Louis and Harry had walked closely together, with their arms tight around each other - like a couple newly in love often did - but the path they currently were on was too narrow for that, only wide enough for one person to stand with both feet together. 

 

So Harry walked first on the dark, slightly damp and earthy smelling path, his hand extended back to Louis, holding on to his hand as he trailed behind. Louis was grateful for that, to have something to hold on to when his sneaker-clad feet stumbled on all the roots and pits on the path. 

 

There were wider paths around, some natural, some man-made and meant to provide city people with the nature experience without them needing to get their feet dirty, so to speak. 

 

However, Harry the explorer was taking them to a special place deeper in the woods than the wider, groveled trails would allow. He had found that place on one of his workshops and wanted to show it to Louis. 

 

Besides, all the best trees was where people rarely went. Apparently.

 

“Remember to keep your eyes open for a suitable tree.” Harry reminded him. 

 

“Okay. You’re going to have to explain the tree thing to me, H. I don’t get it.”

 

“I’ll explain when we find a tree for you.”

 

“But how am I supposed to know when a tree is for me? What am I even looking for?” Louis whined. 

 

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around with a chuckle. 

 

“Just set your intention on finding a tree-partner and look around. You will know then you see your tree.” Harry said with excitement dripping off his words. He kissed Louis on his nose and turned around again to continue their hike. 

 

“And by tree-partner you mean…?” Louis asked, a little horrified.

 

“Someone you can confide in, of course.” Was Harry’s simple answer.

 

Louis decided to let the word ‘ _ someone _ ’ slide. “Do you have a tree?” he asked instead.

 

“I sure do. Multiple. I have four that I’m close with and a whole bunch that are more acquaintances than anything.” Harry informed casually, like he was talking about friends. Well, human friends.

 

Dumbfounded, Louis halted and stared at the back of Harry’s curly head. 

 

Harry, of course, stopped too and sent a questioning look back at Louis. He smirked at the wide blue eyes that met his, and continued talking about his tree friends as he dragged Louis along. 

 

“When you haven’t met them in a long time and come to visit, they greet you like a puppy.”

 

“What?” Louis exclaimed, already imagining how a big arse tree would look like, jumping around out of joy.

 

“Well, they don’t jump you, like a puppy would.” Harry sighed amusedly, clearly reading Louis mind. “The tree stands still, serene as ever, but the energy from the tree is the same of an excited puppy that haven’t seen someone they love in a long time.” 

 

Louis let out a hearty laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling. Puppy trees. 

 

“And then you have to talk them down, pet them soothingly and reassure them so they calm down.” 

 

“Oh god, you’re such a hippie! My hippie boy.” Louis chirped. 

 

“I can’t believe I have my own hippie.”

 

“Oh, shut it.” Harry laughed and silenced him with a tender kiss.

 

* * *

 

A short while later, after a kilometre or so, of Louis entertaining himself by silently asking random trees  _ ‘are you my tree-partner?’,  _ he suddenly felt something and stopped abruptly. 

 

“Harry.” He called out, sounding a little alarmed. 

 

The forest echoed back his call.

 

Harry, who was still holding Louis’ hand, got yanked backwards at the sudden stop. “What?”

 

“I think this is it.” Louis whispered in awe and looked around. 

 

Harry let his eyes look around too. “Which one is it?” He whispered back.

They stood at the foot of a hill with a pretty steep climb to the top of it. The ground surrounding the hill, as well as a bit up on it, was covered in the same white wood anemones as they’d seen earlier. It kind of made it look like snow at the bottom of the hill. 

 

The trees were sparse in this area, compared to just a few hundred metres further back. It’s not quite a clearing, with still enough trees around to give the place a foresty feel, but the sun shone through the crowns of the trees and made everything so bright and beautiful. 

 

There were large aspen trees scattered around the area. The grey bark covering the trees glimmered in almost a silvery tone in the sunlight. Most of the trees looked like they had stepped into the thick blanket of wood anemones, to cover and perhaps to warm their feet. 

 

However, one aspen tree was standing on the naked ground, it seemed. The brown leaves it had shed last autumn, lied flat on the ground. A few tufts of bright green grass was starting to make their way through the old leaves, almost like trying to clothe the tree trunk. 

 

Two larger rocks were at each side of the tree - like perfectly placed seats for guests, like an invitation. 

 

Louis approached one of the rocks, brushed off some crusty leaves and sat down. “This one,” he announced with wonder.

 

Because this was all sorts of crazy. And kind of amazing - in a weird, scary way. He had stopped before he even noticed the tree, because his entire body was tingling. Kind of like when you get goosebumps.

 

Everything is energy, everything has a vibration, Harry had said on numerous occasions, as he did this time. 

 

Everything is energy. We can all pick up on the energies around us and we can feel things that aren’t ours. The only thing obstructing us in using energy in a balanced ‘what benefits one, benefits all’-kind of way, is humanity’s limited perception of how the universe works. It’s the perception that invalidates everything and anything that isn’t solid and physically measurable.  

 

“How does it feel?” Harry sat on the other rock. He didn’t bother to brush of any dirt.

 

“Weird. And… ehm… thick? Kind of?” Louis scrunched his nose. How would he explain this? 

 

“Yeah, the energies are thick here.” Harry agreed, leaning back on his hands, closing his eyes and enjoying the sun on his face. 

 

“Up on that hill is actually where I was taking you. There’s a large platform of sorts, and ruins of a stone wall on the other side. I think there might have been a settlement or a stronghold of some sort here at one point in time.” 

 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. We’ll go up there later if you want. There’s a newly built shelter up there, and a bonfire place, so people are coming here and using this place.” Harry opened his eyes again and looked up at the tree crown. 

 

“Yeah, I want to see it.”

 

“Now tell me about this tree. Because I know you can feel it.” Harry smirked at Louis. “Even I can feel it, and it’s not even talking to me.”

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Louis admits, a little scared of making a fool of himself. “Do I have to hug it?” 

 

“No, but you do have to touch it before we leave. That’s mandatory.” Harry laughs. “If you think of the tree as a mentor, and give it the human attributes of your view of a mentor, how does it behave towards you? What does it say?”

 

Louis thought of it for a moment. He closed his eyes and let him just feel. The energies around him were flowing like wind, and he was pretty sure he was physically swaying along. 

 

“He’s friendly. Carefully approaching. He wants to comfort me, but doesn’t know if it’s okay to do that.” 

 

“Is it okay?” Harry asks and Louis nods his answer. “Then tell him that you allow it.” 

 

Louis did just that and they went back and forth like that. Harry coached Louis to treat this meeting with the tree almost as a therapy session. The tree was a wise therapist and Louis it’s patient, just unloading everything.

 

At one point Louis got up and carefully approached the tree. He put his hand flat on the trunk and gasped loudly. There was almost like electricity at the point of contact, surging between him and the tree. And there was the feeling of mutual respect between the two.   

 

Louis didn’t really understand, if he was being honest. But he did feel a lot better after this weird therapy session. He just went with it. 

 

* * *

 

“I’m supposed to talk to you,” Louis confessed when they were halfway home again. He was holding Harry’s hand tightly and swinging their arms between them. 

 

The hours in the woods had flown by, and in early afternoon the streets were a lot busier than when they passed the same places that morning.

 

“Hm?” 

 

“You know that I don’t mean to not believe you, right?” Louis asked, embarrassment weighing down on him. “Like, when you say that you want to be with me?”

 

Harry squeezed his hand. “I know. I thought we worked through it this morning?”

 

“We did. But the tree thought I should explain myself a bit more.” Louis grinned. How convenient, blaming the tree.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.” Louis looked at his feet as they were walking. “I’m really happy to be with you, Harry. I’m so grateful, that you are you and that you agreed to put up with me.” 

 

“It’s not a hard task for me, Lou.”

 

“Yeah, but sometimes I-” Louis bit his lip as he thought of which words to use. “Sometimes I feel so much, that I get overwhelmed. I, too, get ahead of myself and all kinds of fantasies start playing in my head.” 

 

From the corner of his eye, Louis can see Harry smiling at that.  

 

“And then the fears have to get involved.” Louis frowned. “I’ve done it wrong twice already. What’s to say this is not just me doing everything wrong again?” 

 

“Because I can see myself wanting everything with you, Harry, everything.” Louis finished with a whisper.  

 

Harry stopped in the middle of the busy sidewalk and drew in Louis for a hug. He murmured sweet things in his ear, telling him that he understood everything. The fear of it being wrong, the feeling of not being able to trust yourself and the need to hold on to past decisions. 

 

Moving along after a few moments Harry spoke again. “Why did you marry the second time?” 

 

“Well, that’s really a long story, since I had myself convinced of all kinds of wonderful things.” Louis tried to joke. “If I’m being totally honest, I thought that I had to give the kids a family.”

 

“Not only did I believe that I couldn’t be a good parent on my own, but I thought I was being a bad parent and hurting the kids by trying to be a single parent and make it on my own.” Louis let out a spiritless chuckle. 

 

To be frank, Louis had been a bad parent at the time, he had hurt his kids. By drinking every day, not by being a single parent. 

 

”The marriage was kind of a disaster and I think that relationship hurt the kids more than me being single ever could.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Harry offered his sympathies. 

 

“Well, one good thing about it all was that Joseph stopped calling me a whore.”

 

They were almost home when Harry asked what was behind Louis’ decision to not have any more kids. 

 

Louis told him about his fear of something happening and him not being able to take his kids with him. The need to know that he could carry and hold on to all of his kids when he needed to flee. Louis had always wondered how parents with a lot of kids dealt with not having enough arms to carry all their children to safety.

 

“Which is stupid,” Louis said dejectedly as he slid in his key in the front door, the keys rattling  against the door. “Both of them are too big to carry anywhere. And I know that this is only the PTSD talking, but still.”

 

They stepped inside and Harry closed and locked the door behind him. He then softly placed both hands on Louis’ cheeks and kissed him thoroughly, before resting his forehead against Louis’ .

 

“Please tell me,” Harry pleaded, eyes closed and voice thick with emotion. “That you do  _ know  _ than I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. You won’t have to save your children from me.” 

 

They stood in silence for a heartbeat or two, before Harry added,  _ “I will _ carry them.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. <3


	16. The Cuts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Major trigger warning:**   
>  Self harm, cutting. Nothing graphic really, but past and present self harm is discussed throughout this chapter. The act of cutting is mentioned and the surrounding thoughts and feelings are described.  
> Fresh wounds and scars are mentioned.  
> And then there’s the reaction to cutting. There’s some anger and disappointment, among other emotions.
> 
> This is a horrible chapter. Be careful. <3 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Cirice - Ghost  
> Wait And Bleed - Slipknot  
> Skin - Sixx:A.M.  
> Bye Bye Beautiful - Nightwish
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

As Harry climbed the stairs to the third floor, he was met with the sound of loud and heavy music filtering through the door of Louis’ flat. To his knowledge nobody should be home, but apparently plans had been changed. 

 

He decided to forgo the use of his borrowed key and pushed his finger on the doorbell until a shrill ringing echoed in the stairwell. Harry repeated the action several times, but when the music was still as loud as before and the door remained unanswered, he dug up the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. 

 

He quietly stepped inside on the welcome mat and closed the door behind him.

 

Just as he predicted, the concert was being held in Jonathan’s room, just down the hallway.

 

Harry was about to knock on his door, when it opened and the room’s occupant came rushing out. Jonathan was startled and visibly recoiled when he saw Harry standing in front of him. “Fucking hell!”

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Harry apologised calmly, “I rang the bell and was just about to knock and make my presence known. What are you doing here?”

 

“What am _ I _ doing here?” he gritted out, clearly annoyed. The angry energy was almost visibly flowing around Jonathan, as he viciously expressed a steady flow of counter questions. “What are  _ you _ doing here? You don’t live here! Why do you even have a key? When did you get it?”

 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Harry smiled apologetically and gave a small shake of his head. “I’ve only borrowed the spare key, so I could come here to start preparing dinner before your dad gets home. He thought he’d be tired after all the meetings and his appointment, so I offered to help.”

 

Jonathan huffed and stomped into the kitchen. Harry followed slowly and gently asked if he wanted to talk about what was bothering him. He was kind of curious, since he’d never seen Jonathan upset before. He always seemed so level headed and thoughtful. Introverted even.

 

“You’d never understand.” Jonathan scoffed and dropped the water glass he’d just emptied in the sink.

 

“Heeey. I’m a counsellor by profession, I’m trained to understand.” Harry said in mock offense, followed by a lopsided grin and a childish, exaggerated wink.

 

That got Jonathan’s mouth twitching into the smallest smile.

 

“Come on. Let me make you a snack and we’ll have a talk about what’s on your mind before your dad gets home.” Harry suggested kindly, already turning to rifle through the cabinets.

 

Jonathan agreed warily and returned to his room to turn down the music before he went to sit on the closest chair. As he sat down, his shorts rode up a bit and revealed a number of flamingly red lacerations on the middle of his thigh.

 

A wave of nausea hit Harry, as the recognition and empathy flooded his system.  _ God. _

 

Those were fresh cuts. And that was such a familiar place he had them on.

 

Harry closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the fridge door handle as he silently asked the universe to help him help Jonathan. He willed all the love and comfort he had in him to radiate towards the teenager, to soothe him.

 

“Cookies or a ham sandwich?” Harry asked once he’d gotten himself in order.

 

“Sandwich is fine.”

 

Harry quickly made two sandwiches and poured two glasses of orange juice. He knew that Jonathan was crazy about juice.

 

Apparently the boy was hungry too. His sandwich was gone before Harry even had the chance to get a bite of his own.

 

“Did something happen to make you upset?” Harry asked, taking a sizeable bite of his sandwich.

 

“It’s complicated." Jonathan huffed, and then gulped down his juice.

 

Harry looked at him patiently while he chewed. Jonathan decided to continue after a few minutes of fidgeting, picking at his fingers and staring down at the table - mannerisms that he had in common with Louis, Harry noted.

 

“I’m just so tired. I can’t catch a break at papa’s, I never get enough room to even breathe. And now…” he sighed anxiously, “Well, let’s just say that shit went down and I really need to talk to Dad about it.”

 

“Makes me nervous.” Jonathan added as an afterthought.

 

“And you don’t want to tell me the details?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

 

Jon let out a small sardonic laugh. “You  _ are _ understanding. Who would’ve thought.”

 

Harry smiled proudly, perhaps with a hint of sarcasm on his side too. He used a few breaths to center himself and then asked, “Can I tell you a story?”

 

“I don’t know. Is it long and boring?”

 

“Boring, no. Long, yes, kind of. But I’ll try to keep it short.” The chair made a scraping sound as Harry rose to put the kettle on. “I need tea for that. You want some?”

 

Jonathan gestured with his hand and made a face, eyebrows raised up high and the corners of his mouth drawn down, as to say  _ ‘Does it look like I care?’ _ , and then turned to look out the window.

 

Moody Jonathan was an interesting kid, Harry thought. He’s holding back his feelings and simultaneously letting them run wild, while still keeping his humoristic sarcasm.

 

With the sandwich plates pushed aside and two cups of cinnamon tea on the table, Harry began talking about what he hoped would help Jonathan.

 

“I was thirteen when I discovered that I could deliberately hurt myself physically, in order to feel better emotionally.” Harry stated quietly, thinking about that particular summer evening when he’d rushed out of his hell of a home and had, as per usual, headed for the woods.

 

What set that occasion apart from all the other times he’d done the same thing - self-hatred, anger and impossible despair boiling inside of him, was that now he had a small pocket knife in hand. He was dead set to kill himself - the pun totally intended.

 

He wasn’t going to put up with any more of his so called mother’s antics. He wasn’t going to listen to any more of her belittlements, accusations or threats. He’d show her how it was done. He’d kill himself, that much was sure.  

 

It turned out that when it came down to it, Harry was too scared to actually try to commit suicide. Not that different from most other neglected and emotionally damaged young humans, who only wanted to feel safe, loved and valid. But he found a source of relief and discovered that he could damn well hurt himself a least. And he did, out of anger, spite and desperation.

 

“I only had a dull knife at the time though, so I barely managed to scrape my skin enough to bleed. But I learned the effect it had on all the chaotic turbulence I was feeling.” Harry said, shaking his head.

 

Jonathan drew in a sharp breath, his eyes shot up and he quickly paled in terror. Self-consciously he pulled his loosely fitting shirt - Slipknot merch, by the looks of it - down over his knees to cover his legs, as well as pull the sleeves down over his hands. 

 

Not only on the thighs then, Harry noted.

 

“You…?”

 

Harry blinked and nodded solemnly. His fingers were lightly rubbing the large tattoo on his forearm, put there only for the purpose of hiding some of the scars. In fact, several of his tattoos were strategically placed over the scars that time just wouldn’t fade.

 

Jonathan watched the movement over the tattoo, perhaps he understood the meaning of it, and Harry continued to tell about his teenaged self.

 

“My favourite place to cut was my thighs. There was a different kind of satisfaction to it than on any other place on my body. Not only did I get an outlet for all the rampant emotions, but I liked that I could make the cuts so long and they still were so easily hidden.”

 

While intently scanning for Jonathan’s reaction, Harry tried to keep the balance between not revealing too many details about his own experience with self-harm and telling enough to make sure it was relatable to the teenager.

 

Jonathan swallowed. “I- I was fifteen.” He whispered shakily, voice raw and eyes filled with fear.

 

“Okay.” Harry put his elbows on the table, leaning a little bit forward towards Jonathan to show that he was listening and committed to it, “And you’re about to turn seventeen?”

 

Jonathan nodded quickly, but other than that, he sat there like a statue, motionless.

 

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about the cutting?” Harry asked gently after a moment of stillness and Jonathan shook his head almost regretfully.

 

“Papa found out yesterday. Yelled at me all night. That’s why I’m here today. He wanted to call Dad, but I said I need to tell him myself.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, anxiety clearly starting to build up.

 

“That’s a very wise decision, Jon. And very, very brave of you.” Harry praised calmly.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m scared as fuck to tell him.” Jonathan retorted dejectedly and sank down further in the chair.

 

Harry was about to share a lengthy observation about how understanding and loving Louis was, but he was immediately interrupted by Jonathan.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know.” He waved his hand dismissively. “He’s understanding, cares about me and I’m lucky to have him as a parent and everything. I know! But you must have noticed how he gets? He panics and worries and tries to put on an understanding front, while he’s just breaking down on the inside.”

 

Oh, yes, Harry knew how painful it was to watch that.

 

“You’re right, his first reaction is usually to go into full defensive fighting mode,” Harry agreed. “You’re very perceptive.”

 

Jonathan snorted humorlessly, “I’ve lived with him for a long time.”

 

“Would it be easier if I was here when you talk to him?” Harry inquired.

 

Jonathan sat with his eyebrows furrowed in thought, clearly contemplating the idea. 

 

“Maybe…” He eventually let out, while sliding further and further down the chair. He was almost laying down.    

 

“I could try to rein him in a bit, if his reaction is too harsh on you.” Harry tried again. 

 

“But he is going to be worried, very worried. And maybe sad and angry too.” He kept his voice steady and hopefully comforting, even though he felt an unfamiliar sharpness to the worry brewing inside of him.

 

Sitting across from someone close to you and taking in the fact that they were cutting, was different from being in the same situation with a client. Hell, even with Harry’s personal experience, it was scary on a whole different level than he’d known before. 

 

This was Louis’ son. Louis, who he almost certainly loved. This was - if things were to go as he hoped they would - Harry’s future stepson.

 

“I know he is.”

 

Jonathan suddenly sat up straight in the chair and took the first sip of his tea. “Can I ask you something?”

 

He took a deep breath when Harry nodded his agreement, perhaps to gather courage, and then, carefully but with a determined edge to it, he asked “What was the reason you cut the first time?”

 

The question was expected. Harry would even encourage it, when he felt that shared details would be helpful. Still, it weighed on Harry to blame a person instead of the situation, but after a short pause, he answered truthfully. 

 

“My mother.”

 

He had a feeling that with Jonathan, it was important to let the hurt and misunderstood little boy he once was shine through. To let him know that he was not alone, there was understanding here.

 

“I have a different perspective now than I had back then, and can even be thankful for my experiences. But there’s no getting around the fact that the way she was and how she treated me and my sister were huge reasons that I couldn’t handle all my overwhelming emotions. Especially that first time, there was no room in my mind for anything but that it was all her fault.”

 

“What did she do?” Jonathan asked, wide-eyed and a little shocked. Perhaps he was more used to the logical and diplomatic explanations adults often felt inclined to put forth, regardless of the nature of their feelings or the wishes of their hurt inner child.

 

“She had a mental illness - narcissistic personality disorder. Have you heard of it?”

 

“Is that when they’re very self centered?”

 

Harry nodded. “Yes, among other things. My mum probably had loads of symptoms, but the ones I mostly noticed were the lack of any kind of empathy and the need for us to be the perfect children, so that she could shine in front of others.”

 

“If she wasn’t berating us for being wrong in any and all kind of ways, she would pointedly ignore our needs and then blame us for having them in the first place. That first time I cut, she was screaming at me for ruining her life, after the school nurse sent home a note saying I was slightly overweight. She would not stand for any fat children.” Harry finished with a heavy heart and to his horror, Jon was nodding along knowingly.

 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

 

The lingering smell of their herbal tea offered a strange sort of comfort.

 

After a significant pause in their conversation, Harry asked for Jonathan’s reason for cutting the first time. The teenager hesitated, looking up at him with worry radiating from his entire body.

 

“Ehm… I-It was kind of the same, but the opposite. I- ehm... was angry at my papa?” Hesitantly Jonathan spoke, while continuously wiping at his eyes. Harry slid a tissue over the table to him, which Jonathan gratefully took.  

 

“I was angry at him because he never listens to me. Dad a-always says that I have the right to my f-feelings… and I’m allowed to express them.”

 

“And he’s right, everyone should be allowed to be as they are… S-so whenever I’m upset, I try to remember to say how I feel and what upset me.” Jonathan kept telling his story, slowly and shakily.  

 

“Good,” Harry nodded encouragingly, heart sinking with every word out of the boy’s mouth.

 

“But whenever I do that, Papa just mocks me... ‘oooh, so you feel you have been wronged, do you?’“ Jonathan said in a taunting voice, mimicking his father. “Or he just says that he doesn’t think I need to feel the way I do.”

 

Harry was horrified. He already had very low expectations about Joseph from what Louis had told him, but Jonathan’s story made it all so much worse. The man was clearly creating and feeding self-hatred and low self esteem.

 

“I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, Jon.” Harry tried to comfort him from across the table. The boy was clearly upset, but he did a great job holding his feelings in check.  _ Much like his Dad. _

 

The shaky breaths and quiet snivels that were let out, were only the ones forced out by the overflow of his system.

 

“Anyway, the f-first time was after one of those times. Didn’t know what else to do. I was angry at him for constantly wanting me to gain weight and get bigger.” Jonathan sniveled. “W-when I told him how I felt about that, he just mocked me.”

 

It was quiet for a while. Then Jonathan voiced his thoughts. “Maybe my papa has narcissism too?”

 

Harry was seething internally and couldn’t really say much more without overstepping tremendously.

 

He was oscillating between three roles here - dad’s new boyfriend, off duty counsellor and understanding fellow human with similar struggles. Two of those prevented him from cursing out Joseph completely and reciting Louis’ words ‘he’s a complete psycho’ loud and clear.  

 

“Maybe.” He said instead. “You do know that your Papa is at fault here, right?”

 

Jonathan’s vague nod was unconvincing. Harry wished he could go around the table and hug the boy, just as he would hug Louis when he struggled with his feelings. But he felt that that too would be overstepping - unwelcome and disregarding of Jonathan’s personal space.

 

Harry slid another tissue over the table just as Jonathan spoke again and asked more questions about the details of Harry’s cutting.

 

And Harry answered honestly. He never told his mother about it, but his sister knew. The self-harm went on for a few years, sometimes he had no idea why he felt the need to keep hurting himself, and he was lucky enough to be able to stop without outside help. 

 

Harry’s habit of spending time in nature, connecting with the universe, became stronger and more important than his habit of cutting.    

 

* * *

 

Jonathan was furiously wiping his eyes and choppily explaining how he didn’t really want to cut, but couldn’t stop himself, when the front door opened and closed.

 

Not half a minute later Louis stepped into the kitchen and Jonathan threw himself at him with a force that had them both staggering back a few steps. The boy slumped against him, his legs seemingly giving out entirely and Louis’ strength was the only thing holding him up.  

 

Louis was clearly surprised and confused by the sudden action. His arms were holding Jonathan tight as the boy quietly sobbed into Louis’ neck.

 

“Wha- Harry, did you make my baby cry?” It was a mock accusation. A hint of humour mixed in with the sudden worry in Louis’ voice as he looked at Harry, eyes pleading for an explanation.

 

They stood like that for several moments. Jonathan holding on to Louis for all he was worth, slobbering all over his t-shirt and Louis keeping his embrace tight while soothingly rubbing his back and kissing his hair, trying to figure out what was wrong.

 

Louis’ tear filled eyes kept flicking to Harry, silently asking for clues. His face was twitching, expressions morphing from worried to confused to scared to devastated. The empathy was evident, the shared pain so clear that it broke Harry’s heart watching it.

 

“Need to tell you something, Dad.” Jonathan mumbled in a small and scared voice a few moments later.

 

“I’m listening, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

 

Jonathan sniffled a few more times before finally confessing his heavy secret. “I hurt myself.”

 

“What? Are you okay? How did…” Louis furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not making any sense of the situation, worry still present in his voice. “You need to be careful when-”

 

Jonathan cut him off, “No. Dad.” He groaned and whined in frustration into Louis neck. “I mean that I have cut myself.”

 

“Are you bleeding? Let me see.” Louis let go of the embrace and pushed him away. With both hands on Jonathan’s shoulders, he stood an arm's length away and tried to inspect the damage.

 

Louis was clearly not getting it and Jonathan was growing more and more desperate, restlessly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

 

“Lou…” Harry said warningly. Louis shifted his eyes to Harry from where they were scanning every visible part of his son’s body to assess the severity of his injury.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m cutting!” Jonathan almost screamed and flung himself into Louis again.

 

Louis blinked, still as confused as ever. “What do you mean?” He anxiously asked for clarification.

 

Harry suspected that Louis must be in some sort of shock and that’s why he had trouble understanding even when direct words were used.

 

They locked eyes when Louis was once again kissing the side of Jonathan’s head. Harry nodded his head, signalling downward and tapped the tattoo on his arm with two fingers when he was sure that Louis’ was following.

 

It took a few seconds for realisation to dawn on Louis, and when it did, Harry wished he would have let him keep his blissful ignorance for a little while longer.

 

His face crumpled and a loud sob escaped him. “Oh god,  _ oh god _ …” He hugged Jonathan tighter and kept petting his hair while he mumbled out his horror by repeating that one sentence.

 

Instead of just standing and watching helplessly, Harry put on another kettle. 

 

Eventually, Louis would want tea.

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready to sit and talk about this?” Louis asked quietly.

 

Jonathan sniffed, nodded and let go of Louis to wipe his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. Harry was quick to hand them both tissues.

 

They had stood there hugging and crying for a long time, and even though Harry admired Louis’ perseverance in tirelessly standing still and consoling the boy hanging from his neck, now that he had the chance to stop feeling useless, he took it - with a wad of tissues from the colourful cardboard dispenser on the table.

 

Louis smiled at him gratefully and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Thank you,” he said, voice thick and unsteady. “Go see if Jon wants you around when we talk, or if it’s maybe better if you leave for now. I’ll bring in the kettle and cups.”

 

Harry followed the boy to the living room, where he’d already made himself comfortable on the middle of the sofa, wrapped in the purple, flower patterned fleece blanket that sometimes resided on said sofa.

 

“Do you want me to be here when you talk?” Harry asked.

 

“Yeah, can you?”

 

Harry nodded and sat in one of the black armchairs. Jonathan looked exhausted. He laid back, closed his eyes and didn’t move until Louis sat down beside him. And even then, he only opened his eyes briefly before curling up against Louis.

 

“Do you want to hug?” Louis asked.

 

Jonathan nodded and sat up, practically in Louis’ lap, so he could hide his face in his dad’s neck again. Apparently Jonathan was more comfortable talking when he didn’t have to be seen.  _ Just like Louis. _

 

“Can you tell me about it?” Louis started and looked at Harry, uncertainty visible in his eyes. 

 

Harry assumed he was looking for approval or at least wanted a bit of reassurance, so he nodded - it was a good question to start with.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Jonathan’s muffled voice asked. “I have taken the blade from a pencil sharpener and cut my thighs.”

 

“Your thighs?” Louis asked alarmed. “Why? When?”   

 

“Yesterday. And before… A lot of times.”

 

Louis asked what it meant and closed his eyes steeling himself against whatever answer he would have to hear. ‘A lot of times’ meant almost weekly cuts for a little more than a year. Jonathan had chosen to place the cuts on his thighs, because it was the easiest to hide.

 

Jonathan talked about the day before, what lead to him coming forward with his issue now.

 

He described how he and Joseph had gotten into an argument during dinner and how he had wanted to just go to his room to cool down on his own. But since it was his night to do the dishes, he wasn’t allowed to leave until they were done. Meaning that he had had to stay in the presence of his father and his wife, holding back all his feelings while doing dishes for however long it took.

 

When he finally was done he had vanished info his room, locked his door, dug out his blade from it’s hiding place and started slashing his arms, not even caring that the cuts would be visible, and then proceeded to his legs.

 

Louis lost it at that. He could handle the realisation of how much planning Jonathan had put into cutting. He could handle his boy having spent more than a year going out of his way to deliberately harm himself. But hearing this, he just began sobbing audibly.

 

Harry was powerless to do anything, he couldn’t interfere unless it was absolutely necessary.

 

Jonathan panicked at that. He let go of his safety hug and leaned back to look at his dad. “But Dad, you have to know, it was only always at Papa’s. I never did it here. Never!”  

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Louis growled incredulously.

 

“Yes!” Jonathan replied confidently, but instantly changed his demeanor to a more insecure and guilty one. “I don’t know, Dad. It’s not your fault, though. I don’t  _ want _ you to blame yourself,” he pleaded desperately.

 

“Well, I  _ do _ . I do blame myself.” Came Louis’ harsh response.

 

Harry could only imagine what Louis must be feeling. He had never really been on that side of self-harm before. He had, of course, studied it and had had a few clients with the behaviour. But mostly everything he knew about being a loved one to a person with self-harming tendencies came from second hand knowledge.

 

There was usually anger, disappointment, fear, disbelief, sadness and guilt. All mostly directed to themselves. Of course, the person harming knew this. That was one reason they felt so utterly ashamed of themselves.

 

“Dad, please…”

 

“But it  _ is _ my fault, Jon!” Louis almost shouted as his frustration grew. 

 

Desperately he continued getting everything off his chest, “It certainly isn’t  _ your  _ fault. You were only dealing with an impossible situation the best you could.  _ I _ didn’t see that you were struggling so hard, I didn’t notice. So I  _ do _ blame myself.”

 

Louis voice grew vicious, “And I blame that  _ piece of shit _ of a father you have. I will fucking kill him and send him to jail and-”  

 

“Louis!” Harry barked. Louis was getting out of hand and this kind of anger and desire for vengeance did nothing to help Jonathan.  

 

Louis sighed and dropped his face in his hands. He drew in deep, shaky breaths.

 

“I’m sorry, Jon.” He looked intently at his son. “I’m not angry at you. But I  _ am _ angry, and I too am allowed to feel exactly as I feel about this.”

 

Louis sighed audibly again, petted Jonathan’s hair a bit and kept his voice calm and steady as he continued. “I’m sad, angry and worried. I’m not trying to make you feel worse, I’m trying to handle this the best I can. These are my emotions right now and I’m allowed to feel them.”

 

“I have to deal with my beautiful little boy feeling so bad that there’s no other way out than cutting. So you’ll have to deal with me being devastated about it. Alright?”

 

Jonathan nodded and hugged Louis again.

 

When all the questions had been answered, all the thoughts had been vented and all the tea was still in the cups, cold and untouched, Jonathan declared that he would go take a nap.

 

Before he stepped out of the room, Louis was on his feet.

 

“Jon, can- can I see?”

 

Jonathan stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face Louis.

 

“Is it okay if I say no?”

 

Harry didn’t think it was possible for Louis to look any more heartbroken. He was wrong. 

 

He heard Louis saying “It’s okay” in a reassuring tone of voice. Once Jonathan was out of the room Louis deflated and Harry knew that he had forced himself to say those words.

 

Louis looked like he needed to cry some more. He also needed to take a nap. None of those things happened, since he promptly sat in front of his computer and started looking up information about self-harm.

 

Harry quietly kissed him on the top of the head and moved into the kitchen to start dinner. 

 

Louis, too, needed time for himself.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. :( Leave me your thoughts, cheer us all up.


	17. The Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning. Thank you so much for all the beautiful comments. <3 Here's another chapter for you. 
> 
>  
> 
>  **Trigger warning:**  
>  Talk about self harm and negligence. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Believer - Imagine Dragons  
> Infinity - One Direction  
> This Town - Niall Horan  
> Just Like You - Louis Tomlinson
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

 

As soon as he stepped out through the automatic doors of the hospital's therapy building, Louis felt a wave of relief wash over him. He’d been in there for a little over an hour, but the way he thoroughly basked in the feeling of sweet summer wind ruffling his hair and the sunlight warming his skin, you’d think he hadn’t experienced outdoor air for months.

 

And perhaps, in a way, he hadn’t.

 

Louis had just finished what felt like his millionth therapy session, and for the first time in forever, he felt light and content when he walked out of it.

 

The prolonged exposure therapy had progressed nicely. It was helping, even when Louis was convinced he was doing everything wrong.

 

He’d felt that the entire spring was reduced to Thursdays and weekends only. Therapy with a new recording each Thursday, and then he needed to spend the weekend trying to resume a tolerable version of life. All other days remained a total blur.

 

Harry’s support during the treatment was godsent. In the blurry weeks Louis was often far too immersed in dealing with therapy for there to be any hope of maintaining healthy routines. 

 

Eating and cooking for the kids became particularly difficult. He was used to being useless like that though, so he tried his best to do what he always did when depression drew it’s thick blanket of darkness over him - he made as many pre-cooked meals as possible to freeze and for the kids to heat up when they’re hungry.

 

But having Harry around to help, was invaluable. It meant a lot less microwaved food for them.  _ ‘Heating up food in the microwave isn’t really healthy, Lou, no matter how home cooked the meal is.’ _ Harry had lovingly corrected Louis’ beliefs that one time, when he had decided to declare himself the official cook of the Tomlinson household, and then proceeded to teach the kids how to heat up food in the oven or on the stove.

 

_ ‘Like people did in the sixties - the hippie era, where this one comes from. There were no microwaves present.’ _ Louis had helpfully added to his hippie’s food heating lesson and given him a kiss on the nose.

 

He could never thank Harry enough.

 

As the weeks went by, Louis was able to stay long moments at the trauma site during his walks, and allow his body to just feel the anxiety move through. And with each new recording the trauma memory evolved, leaving Louis more and more confused. 

 

He often felt like a fraud.

 

Johnny, the therapist, was ecstatic. Not about Louis’ misery or the horror of his trauma, of course, but about the fact that the therapy really was working.

 

By the third or so session Louis had been able to look at the scene and actually see his ex husband punch the other man.

 

At the fifth session, Johnny had told him that he was a textbook example of PTSD. That had somewhat calmed Louis’ worries. It was all to be expected. The conflicting memories, the feeling of being fake, the fear of being accused of being fake, the vulnerability, the overwhelming shame - it was all normal considering the circumstances.

 

And yes, it took Louis several weeks to get over the irrational thoughts of ‘what if Johnny thought that he’d read up on the symptoms and played the part of fake PTSD patient perfectly’.

 

By the time they got to the seventh session, Johnny was able to pinpoint the focal points in Louis’ trauma memory. They could narrow it down to the moments that actually remained traumatic for him.

 

The sense of not being able to control or ensure your own safety left deep, deep wounds in a person.

 

There were three of these focal points; the terror and resignation of when Joseph caught up to Louis under the streetlight, the moment he was pushed and had to endure the humiliation of having his dignity taken away from him and the feeling of abandonment when his mother had refused to comfort him like he needed.

 

All the following sessions had then consisted of recording only the focal points. Louis went from telling the 30-minute story once with various amount of detail, to repeating three moments over and over again for 30 minutes.   
  
  


And then further on, once only one situation was still causing major distress, he repeated that one for just as long. It was the moment beneath the streetlamp, where Joseph first caught up to him, that was the one causing more distress than anything.

 

Yes, it really was as boring as it sounded. A moment that lasted a couple of seconds when it happened, took about two minutes to tell and then that should be repeated for half an hour.

 

Louis, the storyteller that he was, made a point of using different words and bringing out different details with every repetition. So maybe not completely as boring as it sounded.  

 

Today was Thursday, but no new recording was made. Not a single one. Because Johnny was so thrilled that Louis was on schedule and improving at such a rapid rate as he was. 

 

Sometimes Louis thought that Johnny was happier about the progress than he himself was - all smiling to himself while scribbling away on his notepad.  

 

They had decided that the treatment and their sessions could be paused over the summer and that listening to one of the previous recordings once or twice a week was enough.

 

Besides, Louis needed to stop the treatment now and be there for Jonathan instead of walking around like a zombie, broken down with ghosts from the past. 

 

Not much attention had been given to his personal issues this session. The more pressing matter was Jonathan so Louis had spent his therapy hour talking about that, fishing for professional advice.

 

  
* * *  


 

“Took you long enough.” Steve’s familiar voice echoed through Louis’ thoughts and brought him back to reality.

 

Just like they had agreed on, Steve was waiting for him after the therapy session, sitting on the stone wall that marked the high edge of a very sparsely planted flower bed next to the brick building. 

 

Wheels were quietly swooshing on the asphalt, as he carefully rocked the pram back and forth in front of him. It was a dusty pink and grey modern variety that had many more features than the ones Louis was used to from back in the day.

 

From the looks of it, Steve’s newborn daughter was safely sleeping inside the pram. Louis unceremoniously took hold of the hood that covered and shielded the adorable three week old baby and folded it back a bit, so he had room to stick his head in there to coo at her before even acknowledging her father.  

 

“Have you waited long?” Louis asked in a quiet voice as he was silently gushing over the sleeping cutie. He felt an almost compulsory need to straighten her tiny white cardigan and pet the dark feathery wisps of hair sticking out of the matching crocheted bonnet.

 

“Yes. The baby woke up twice because of the lack of movement.” Steve grumbled with exaggerated annoyance.

 

“I told you it might take a bit longer than usual.” Louis stood up straight and folded up the hood again before turning to Steve with a slightly taunting grin. “Still haven’t decided on a name then?”

 

“No.” Steve groaned as he stood up and let up the pram’s brake with his foot and started walking. “It has to be perfect. It has to be  _ her _ name, we can’t just pick a random name and go with it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Now move over and let me do this.” Louis playfully pushed Steve to the side and took over steering of the ship - pram, whatever.

 

Steve let out an affronted squeak.

 

“What? I  _ am _ her godfather. You said so yourself. So why would you prevent bonding time between me and little Louisa here?” Louis mischievously pointed out and swaggered down the street.

 

A part of him still loved everything to do with babies, just like he did when his own were brand new.

 

When he noticed Steve didn’t follow, Louis stopped abruptly and turned to look back expectantly, one hand haphazardly letting go of the handle. “I think you get enough time with her as it is, don’t you?”

 

“Well, I am her _actual_ father. And would you _please_ use both hands?” Steve pointed out anxiously, followed by a very vocal contemplation on the name Louisa, as he caught up to Louis.

 

Ever since the baby was born Steve had spent a lot of time out and about with her. Her birth was a difficult one and the delivery left Neyla more weakened than the average new mother.

 

Steve dedicated all of his time to his family. Assisting Neyla with everything he could, taking care of the household and taking the baby out on walks several times a day, so his wife could rest as much as possible.

 

Louis was so proud of his friend. Not a single time had he complained about the lack of sleep, or any other part of adjusting to being a parent that often was difficult. He didn't think he’d seen this kind of dedication before.  

 

They walked in silence for a long time. Louis was mostly admiring the sleeping cutie he pushed along in front of him, only looking up every now and then to determine how long until home.

 

He trusted Steve to make sure he did nothing stupid, like walk into traffic.

 

  
* * *  


 

When Louis got home from his therapy appointment, Harry was already in his kitchen preparing to bake Jonathan’s birthday cake for the party being held the next day.

 

He had obviously used the key he borrowed a week ago, the one Louis later refused to take back. 

 

It was nice that Harry had his own key, even if he hadn’t officially given it to him.

 

By the looks of Harry’s bare feet sticking out of some loose joggers, and the wet curls making his t-shirt transparent, he’d been in the shower not too long ago. 

 

The way he once again looked like he just belonged there, made all the warmth inside Louis burst into life.

 

He didn’t even take off his shoes before he strode into the kitchen, determinedly took Harry’s face in his hands and gave him a deep, passionate kiss in greeting.

 

Harry’s appreciative hum and dazed smile were answered by Louis’ satisfied smirk as he backed away again, retreating to the hallway like nothing had happened.

 

Harry dried his hands on the dish towel as he followed Louis around the flat. “So… Did you talk about Jon?” he asked.

 

Louis went into the teenagers room and placed the small envelope containing birthday money from Steve on his desk.

 

“Yeah. Most of my session was about him. Well, my worries about him and how to handle the entire situation.”  Louis explained, feeling all the thick, syrupy guilt rising up again.

 

He looked around in the room that displayed Jonathan’s uniqueness everywhere, from the hockey posters that had hung there for years to the newly appeared items with pentagrams and smudgy, angry letters.

 

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice anything. I  _ should _ have seen it and prevented it.”  

 

Just as Louis said that, his mind put forth an image of himself hiding away all of his issues, clearly connecting the two.

 

“Just like you were upfront and honest with your own difficulties?” Harry asked carefully.  

 

Louis sighed heavily and shook his head as he sat down on his son’s unmade bed. 

 

Johnny the therapist had said the same thing.

 

“It makes sense now,” Louis guiltily looked up at Harry standing in the doorway, green-checkered dish towel still in hands, worriedly pulling it back and forth between his fingers.

 

“Now I understand why he always chooses to shower at home after practice or why he never walks around in his underwear at home.” Louis kept talking, hoping the heaviness in the pit of his stomach would release it’s claws. 

 

“I just thought he was shy, you know? That he wasn’t comfortable showing his bare legs to anyone because he was shy, not that he…” his voice broke before he could finish the sentence.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hid his face in his hands,“Not that he was hiding actual  _ wounds! _ ”

 

There was a whole new level of panic in the hurricane of emotions Louis was dealing with. 

 

It wasn’t the usual, neurotic worry-mix of a master at hovering and helicopter-parenting. Nor was it the confusing and dejected double-sided pain of his own ‘too much to handle but still completely doable’ emotional mess that was present more often than not.

 

This was a very real, very sharp mixture of anger, sorrow, disappointment and fear. A lot of it was, to Louis’ dismay, directed towards Jonathan. A lot more was directed at that arse of a father he had. But most of it was aimed at Louis himself. He should have reacted to Jonathan’s behaviour instead of brushing it off. 

 

Seriously, what kind of teenager doesn’t run around pantless every chance they get?

 

Louis just wanted to swaddle his son in bubble wrap and put him in a cupboard where he would be safe and unharmed forever. He would feed him pancakes and read him books all the time. Why couldn’t he do that? Why?

 

Harry chuckled and murmured something about toning down the maniac from where he was kissing Louis’ forehead. Sometime during his rant, Harry had sat down beside him on the bed without Louis noticing it at all.  

 

He cuddled into Harry’s embrace and was just about to squawk out his objection to being likened to a lunatic, when the front door slammed shut and a breathless Rose shouted to announce her arrival.

 

At the same time Louis phone in his pocket beeped with two new messages.

 

“Shit. That’s probably Joseph again, wanting me to call him.” Louis groaned dejectedly.

 

He turned to face Harry, eyes wide and posture rigid with fear, whispered voice tinted with horror. “Am I a bad person if I say that the worst thing about this entire mess is having to deal with him a lot?”  

 

  
* * *  


 

Friday night came with no relief, despite it being spent without listening to any recording at all. Although, Louis would choose to listen to a new recording every day for the rest of his life, if it meant that Jonathan was free of self-harm.

 

After a small birthday get-together for Jonathan, where Harry had met Louis’ siblings and parents for the first time, the kids had scampered off to spend the week to come with their other parent.

 

Louis felt like he had let Harry down by not providing enough support when he had been a little nervous to meet Louis’ family. 

 

He had been much too worried about Jonathan and the fact that he, despite his reluctance to let the kid leave for the week, was forced to do so. At least the boy had sworn he would be alright and he’d come back if he felt things got to be too much.

 

Anyway, despite Harry’s assurance that he did not let him down, Louis was determined to make it up to him. Harry had been nervous and Louis had basically left him alone to deal with the slight rudeness of his mother and the weird jokes his brother made.

 

Luckily there were plenty of small children in the form of nieces and nephews that caught Harry’s attention. Keeping them occupied earned him the approval of both sisters.

 

During the walk to Harry’s place, Louis had used his words to apologise. Then he had sat Harry down at the table and used his cooking skills to apologise.

 

After that he’d used his blowjob skills to apologise, leading them to where they were, lying in bed, kissing tenderly and catching their breaths.

 

“Lou, baby…” Harry chuckled between Louis relentless kisses, “I’ve been telling you all- mhm- evening. It’s alright. I’m alright.”

 

He was laying on his back with Louis close to him on his side, leaning on his elbow to hover over Harry.

 

“But this was my chance to be useful and be there for you when you needed, and I blew it.” Louis pouted, crestfallen. He trailed remorseful kisses down Harry’s neck while he moved his leg up and down in a way that had his foot caressing Harry’s leg.

 

“Well... You certainly blew something.” Harry joked and broke into a fit of giggles.

 

“God, Harold.” Louis laughed and let his forehead fall on Harry’s firm, toned chest. He took the opportunity to breathe in his scent, making him all dizzy. 

 

This was the best kind of high.

 

“Maybe you can be useful now?” Harry asked lowly when their laughter had died down. His fingers kept lightly stroking Louis’ back and shoulder.

 

Louis agreed as he settled in and laid his head comfortably on Harry’s chest. His now flaccid dick was pressed against the side of Harry’s upper thigh and he threw his leg over Harry’s both, trapping him tightly in his hold.

 

“Dealing with Jon’s things this past week has brought up a lot of my past experiences. Perhaps they weren’t as healed as I thought.” Harry confessed.

 

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

 

“Yeah. Would you listen?” came Harry’s low voice, sounding much smaller than Louis was used to.

 

Louis lifted his head and observed Harry with furrowed brows for a moment. He’d never seen him this insecure.

 

“Of course, baby, anything for you.” Louis flinched a bit at the term of endearment. It was the first time he’d called Harry ‘baby’, but he couldn’t freak out about it now and start second guessing. Harry needed him to take care of him now, and that was all that mattered.    

 

Harry kissed him on the top of the head and started talking.

 

  
* * *  


 

For a few moments, when Harry talked about the background to the matter at hand, their roles felt a bit reversed. Louis’ genuine desire to support him through his difficulties, made Harry feel so incredibly certain of the love that he felt towards the man, that he really wanted to let him know.

 

But now was not the time, so he settled for squeezing him a little tighter and giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

 

This past week, when Harry had listened to the talks between Louis and Jonathan and helped out with his insights, he had felt his past rise to the surface with a force he wasn’t counting on. 

 

A certain amount of sorrowful reminiscing was to be expected when past difficulties were brought up, as was the case with Harry’s experience in self-harm and tough conditions growing up. But he was surprised that the thoughts and memories were so persistently hanging around. 

 

And that left him with a bit of a dilemma.

 

When he’d worked through his past wounds earlier in life, he’d mostly been single and alone. He never had to take anyone else into consideration and could just go about his usual routine, fleeing into the woods and connecting with the universe, healing things that way.

 

Now he felt so incredibly needed by the Tomlinsons that he couldn’t really do that. Nor did he want to.

 

He had carefully withdrawn a few times, gone home to sort out his thoughts and feelings over the night. Because he knew that the only way away from pain was to go through it. Running away or ignoring it did nothing.

 

He’d been back at Louis’ place as quickly as he could manage the morning after. Ready to offer his support to both of them - and Rose as well, who seemed a lot more frightened by the situation than she let on.  

 

The insufficient processing left him with waves of sadness passing through him with a couple of hours interval. Surely telling Louis about it would help, that’s why he carefully asked Louis to listen.

 

Still, it was difficult to show his vulnerable side, completely defenseless, the same way that Louis had bravely done so many times.

 

Grounding himself in the feeling of his boyfriend’s tight embrace and the feeling of his finger lazily drawing patterns on his stomach, Harry continued talking.

 

“There was this time when child protective services was called. Our school alerted them actually.”

 

The way Louis tensed beside him, Harry guessed he had his own not so good experiences regarding the same.

 

“I thought we’d finally get some help. Maybe they could teach my mother how to take care of us or something,” Harry’s slow voice filled the room and his grip around Louis’ shoulder tightened as he remembered the hopeful, naive fantasies he had as a pre-teen.

 

“Both Alice and I had to talk to some lady. She asked us a lot of questions and I told them the truth, just like it was. The lady said that we couldn’t have that kind of life and that she’d make sure things were going to change.”

 

Harry sighed, reliving the disappointment and hardship that was to follow.

 

“It’s alright, baby.” Louis murmured and kissed his collarbone.

 

A short burst of happiness fluttered in Harry’s body at the pet name and he made a mental note to remember to tell Louis how much he liked to be called that.

 

“As it turned out, ‘making sure things changed’ meant placing one phone call to my mother, asking her if the things we had said were true.”

 

“She was a master manipulator, my mother was. I don’t think it took any effort at all to flip everything to that I was lying, making things up to get attention.”

 

To this day, Harry felt outraged at how little the authorities were willing to do to help children in need. From his adult point of view, the situation in his childhood home was severe negligence and there was more than enough reason to start a thorough investigation about it.

 

“What?” Louis sounded just as outraged as he lifted his head and locked his disbelieving eyes with Harry’s. “Nobody believed you?”

 

“Alice did, she knew… And she had apparently been smarter in her interview, being very vague about details so she could easily avoid blame.”

 

It had been a painful realisation, not only the fact that his mother shamelessly made up stories to save herself, but also that his older sister apparently knew how to play the game and got away with things.

 

She had tried to defend Harry at first, but when their mother started calling everyone she knew telling them how horrible her lying son was, she had given up.

 

“At one point her brother came over, yelling at me about what I had done, asking if I was too stupid to understand how much I was hurting the family with my smear campaign.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispered and scooted up a bit so they were face to face. Louis warmly caressed his cheek and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Harry closed his eyes and basked in the love he was receiving for a moment, before adding, “Yeah, I was barely twelve, Lou, and multiple adults were telling me that my truth was wrong, that I was a liar.”

 

“I believe it was around this time I started to run away to the woods. At first I thought I’d just run away and never come back, but then I started thinking about Alice and how worried she must be, so I went back.”

 

Harry continued his stories, slowly talking about how the accusations never really subsided after this - he was always labelled as the lying, horrible son who never helped his poor saint of a mother, who was unlucky enough to be cursed with such horrible children. 

 

He talked about how his need to escape was the first version of self-harm and later, when the razor blades made their entrance, that same need turned into the only thing that actually helped.

 

Louis continued to insert comforting hums and comments at appropriate times, and gave small kisses and caresses in between.

 

They both had so many scars from self-harm - some were caused by razor blades, some caused by alcohol or violent men.

 

They laid there for hours. Harry sharing bits and pieces of his childhood and Louis trying to love away the pain that still was very much alive.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3


	18. The Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and nice comments. <3
> 
>  
> 
>  **Trigger warning:**  
>  Arguing and yelling.  
> Guilt and heavy feelings.  
> Panic attack.  
> Talk about past abuse.
> 
>  
> 
> Binaural beats are the best. Do a search on youtube and listen to some. Great for relaxation, dealing with insomnia and things. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Thunder - Imagine Dragons  
> Crazy - Gnarls Barkley  
> Rebirthing - Skillet  
> Delight And Angers - In Flames
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

 

During the weeks that turned June into July, Louis deemed himself on the brink of death.

 

Almost every day he felt like giving up, to simply stop breathing and that would be that. Every new morning felt like it could be the one when he’d be unable to go on with his life.

 

The feeling was not the life-sucking kind of lethargy his depressions would bring about every now and then, where the heaviness was rooted inside him, in his bones, dragging him down. 

 

This was more pressing. Like an outside force that kept him unmoving with exhaustion, almost like the anxiety demons, but not really.    

 

Louis was constantly tense, feeling the need to maybe explode a little from having to meet with Joseph several times a week. While he was really happy that they had gotten a psychologist for Jonathan so quickly, it was still horrible having to deal with Joseph all the time at Jonathan’s counselling sessions and other meetings.

 

Louis was used to only seeing him at floorball games, parent-teacher conferences or doctor’s appointments. Those occasions were spread out evenly across several months. An hour here and there, nothing regular. 

 

This frequent exposure to Joseph was not doing him any good, since having to be in the same room as him always put him on edge. And if that wasn’t enough, hours of mentally preparing himself went into every occasion.

 

Louis had to put up a facade of being unaffected by the demons only he knew about. 

 

It often took a lot of him to stay quiet during whatever meeting they were at, and not protest against Joseph’s derogatory questions and demands, stupid fucking anecdotes or inappropriate comments.

 

But he handled it like he had done for so many years already. He just tucked away all the panic and anxiety he felt, and tried to be the cooperative, good parent. Feeling and pointedly not feeling, all the raging emotions - there was hatred there too, if he was to be completely honest - Louis rigidly sat through every one of the meetings and sessions for the sake of his son.

 

Harry coached Louis through a few anxiety attacks and warned him several times that it wasn’t healthy behavior, going up against feelings of distress like that. 

 

There wasn’t always a noticeable reason for Louis’ anxiety attacks, but since they now had a very clear reason for them, they damn well shouldn’t just ignore that.

 

When Louis wouldn’t listen, Harry offered to come with to all these meetings as support. Louis had the right to have sessions and meetings separate from his abusive ex. If he wouldn’t exercise that right, he could at least bring someone along to support him.

 

Yes, Louis knew he could probably demand his own sessions. He also knew that he would then be labelled the difficult parent, who refused to cooperate. He’d been through that before and knew how the story would go.

 

Louis also declined Harry’s offer to come with. He wasn’t ready to subject Harry to the shitshow that was his ex.

 

* * *

 

After one of the sessions they had agreed to temporarily change Jonathan’s schedule, so he spent more time at Louis’ and only short intervals at Joseph’s. 

 

There had of course been arguing about that, but this time Louis had stood his ground, firmly pointing out that a schedule change had nothing to do with anything other than Jonathan’s well being.

 

Maybe it was easier dealing with Joseph after the treatment after all.

 

Jonathan was mostly quiet, didn’t talk much at counselling, wanting only to forget everything and move on. He kept to himself more than usual at home too. 

 

Louis was worried sick, but couldn’t really do much else than keep a close eye on him and be sure to catch him if he fell.    

 

Rose was acting out a lot, probably compensating for her brother’s newfound silence. She made a habit of screaming out her frustration and slamming doors a lot more than usual.

 

And she whined about wanting to dye her hair, preferably pink or blue, but Joseph wouldn’t let her. So she was crying and screaming at Louis about the unfairness of life and her father’s opinions, that stated her non-existent need to dye her hair, certainly not an unnatural colour.

 

Louis couldn’t really blame her for taking everything out on him. He knew that she exploded and let all her anger out on him because it was safe for her to do so. He let her scream when she needed to and then a bit later they could hug and talk it out.

 

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t annoyed at times, though.

 

He was mainly angry at Joseph for trying to control every single aspect of the kids’ lives, but he was also annoyed at Rose, who didn’t even want to understand why he wouldn’t try to change Joseph’s mind.

 

As was the current moment.

 

Rose had just slammed the door to her room with the force of a hurricane. Louis could swear that the entire building rattled with the aftershocks. Then she suddenly opened it again and fixed Louis with her steely blue eyes, blazing with anger. “You’re  _ so _ annoying,” she screamed, chest heaving and fingers clutching the doorframe. 

 

She wore a dark purple oversized hoodie and ripped black jeans - which was a perfect representation of how Rose was, sweet and cuddly, but also wanting to be perceived as tough and cool. “I love you, but you’re so fucking annoying!” And then the door slammed shut for the second time.

 

Louis was equally annoyed and amused. That would be Rose - angry as a bee, but still mindful not to hurt anyone's feelings.

 

He walked the few steps to the sofa and sunk dramatically down on it. He threw one of the smaller pillows at Rose’s door, just because he could. The pillow hit the door with a thump and was followed by Rose’s responding war cry.

 

Exhaling loudly, he wiggled down so he was full on lying on the sofa and then groaned into another pillow.

 

“If you really want to change your hair, Rosie, just go do it!” Louis turned his head and shouted at the door, annoyance still brewing in him. “Do what  _ every other _ kid has done in the history of humankind! Don’t wait for permission, just go and fucking do the shit you want to do!  _ God! _ ”

 

He groaned to himself. Did he really just tell his barely teenaged daughter to go be a rebel?

 

Jonathan, looking all kinds of amused, emerged from the hallway. Louis knew that he also had had this same discussion, about dying his hair blue, several times with Joseph.  

 

“Really, Dad? Did you suggest that Rosie dye her hair without permission?” Jonathan asked as he sat down in the armchair next to the sofa.  

 

Louis stared up at the ceiling and nodded his response.

 

“Can I do it too?”

 

Louis shifted so he could look at Jonathan.

 

“Yes! Go live a little!” He rolled his eyes as he sat up, and Jonathan laughed. Good, he understood that what Louis was saying was half seriously, half jokingly.  

 

“But don’t do anything illegal.” Louis pointed sternly at his son. 

 

“No drinking, no smoking, no drugs,” he counted on his fingers, while looking Jonathan meaningly in the eyes, to make sure he really understood. 

 

This was not Louis letting them run amok, this was him asking them to take control of their own lives.  

 

“You can do whatever you want with your body.” He finished just as Jonathan stood up from the chair and started to make his way out of there. 

 

Louis eyes widened when he realised what he had said, he quickly leaned towards the door to shout after Jonathan. “No cutting though!”

 

“Yeah, I know.” The boy stopped in the door and looked back. “But does this mean I can get tattoos and piercings?” he asked hopefully as he fiddled with his leather bracelets.

 

This was a new thing of his, lots of bracelets - preferably studded in some sort of gothic or punk style. He also wore fingerless gloves at all times. Fashion statement, apparently.

 

Louis wasn’t surprised at the question. Both his kids were already planning tattoo designs.

 

“Yes,” he stated. And then added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “When you can legally get them.”

 

Jonathan threw his head back in exasperation, groaned and left the room.

 

* * * 

 

A few days later, and a few more run-ins with the wrath of Rose, Louis felt himself losing it completely. Sure, he had been all kinds of crazy for years, but this time - this time he was going crazy for real.

 

He couldn’t handle anyone even speaking to him without wanting to claw his face off.

 

Morning hassle before school was naturally a pain, given Louis’ state. He snapped at both kids several times, for nothing really, before finally deciding to just go back to bed. The kids could handle themselves.

 

Rose came in a while later, climbed unceremoniously into the bed and laid down beside Louis for a cuddle. Jonathan followed a bit later and laid down on the other side, cuddling in silence for a short while, before saying his love you’s and goodbyes and leaving for school.

 

That was a thing. Even if Louis had massive feelings of guilt and inadequacy, for being the way he was and feeling the way he did, his kids rarely questioned his mood. They let him have his emotions and moods, patiently waiting them out. 

 

When he was bedridden, they came with comfort and, for shorter periods of time, adjusted their demands and needs of a parent.

 

Louis sometimes felt undeserving of such beautiful kids who just accepted, forgave and comforted to the best of their abilities.

 

“I don’t want you to be angry with me.” Rose’s small voice came from somewhere on Louis’ shoulder.

 

“I know, sweetie.” Louis’ arm tightened around her shoulders and he kissed her forehead. “I’m not angry with you.”

 

“It feels like you are.”

 

Guilt weighed heavily in Louis’ gut.

 

“I’m sorry.” Louis gave her another kiss and patted her hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been snappy with you, but I promise, it really has nothing to do with you. I’ve had a lot to deal with and I haven’t rested as much as I should. That’s all.”

 

“So, like my Monday afternoons?”

 

“Like your Monday afternoons.” Louis confirmed.

 

If Rose didn’t take a nap after school on Mondays, she transformed into a little devil. Not much different from how she had behaved the past few days.

 

She glanced at the digital numbers of the alarm clock that were projected onto the ceiling.

 

“Okay, good. I need to leave for school,” she announced with a kiss to Louis’ cheek, before hopping up and scurrying out of the room.

 

Both kids were going to Joseph’s after school, so Louis planned on staying in bed for the next day or two.  

 

“Okay. Have a good day.” Louis burrowed in further under the duvet, really looking forward to sleeping. “I love you. Send me a text every time…” He paused, feeling too exhausted to think of the right words to use. “Oh, you know the drill. Don't’ forget to lock the door.” He could hear her putting on her shoes as he rattled off most of his usual reminders.

 

“I know, Dad!” The eye roll was audible.

 

“But I-”

 

“And I know you only go through your mental list for your own sake, so you can be sure you’ve done everything and blah, blah, blah...”

 

So maybe they’ve had this discussion before.

 

Rose showed her head in the doorway, her hair up in two buns, making it look like cute teddy bear ears.

 

“I just-” Louis started but was once again interrupted.

 

“Love you, bye.” She lingered on the L in love and Y in bye, making it clear that she knew exactly how sassy she was being, before she closed the bedroom door and skipped away. 

 

A moment later the front door opened and shut, and Louis could hear Rose’s keys rattling, the door being locked.

 

Okay then.

 

Sleep.

 

Louis felt around for his phone, checked that the ring volume was on - in case the school or the kids called - and that he had no new notifications.

 

Then he put on some binaural beats, turned to his side and closed his eyes. No way he was getting up anymore today. And it was barely 8 am. Wonderful.

 

Louis smiled to himself for remembering to find one positive thing, despite the crazy morning.

 

* * *

 

Not even fifteen minutes later, Louis phone was ringing just as he was falling asleep.

 

It was probably his mum, he thought in annoyance. She usually called every fucking time he was trying to sleep, not caring at all that he had asked her to just text if it wasn’t urgent.

 

He was about to mute it, when he saw Harry's picture on the screen.

 

“What?” Louis answered, somewhat gruffy.

 

“Oh. Were you asleep?” Harry’s voice was quiet, tinted with remorse. “I’m sorry, I thought I had time to call you before you went to bed.”

 

Harry knew him so well. 

 

Louis hadn’t talked to him in almost two days, since Harry decided that he needed to take some time to really deal with all the painful emotions and memories that had emerged.

 

“Yeah, no, I was almost asleep.” Louis mumbled, with his eyes closed, content with hearing the deep rumble of Harry’s voice again.

 

“I was just calling to ask if you’re okay with me coming over today?” Harry sounded more chipper. “It won’t be for another few hours. You’ll have time to sleep.”  

 

“Sure. You have the key.”

 

* * *

 

When Louis woke, he was sure he’d felt a presence behind him on the bed. 

 

His bed was empty, however, so he thought that maybe he had dreamt of the warmth of another body pressing against his and soft kisses being littered on the back of his neck.

 

As Louis climbed out of bed and adjusted himself in his pyjama pants, he tried to listen for noises in the flat, to see if Harry had come over yet. 

 

There was some strange, low humming noise, but that was probably coming from one of the neighbours.

 

He left the bedroom and walked towards the bathroom when he realised that the humming sound was indeed coming from his flat - his living room, to be exact.

 

Louis shuffled curiously towards the sound and was met with the sight of Harry, clad in a black t-shirt and forest green hiking pants, twirling and swaying in the far corner of the room.

 

He was humming while waving around the little smoking bundle of something he held in his hand.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Harry twisted around to look at Louis, a little startled. Then he let a bright smile take over.

 

“Never mind what I’m doing, come here and give me a kiss.” He demanded playfully.

 

Louis laughed, but obeyed.

 

“Good morning. I tried to wake you, you know? But apparently, neck-kisses don’t have any magical powers to wake sleeping beauties with.” Harry whispered with a quiet laugh as Louis snaked his arms around his neck, stood on his tip toes and gave his soft lips a few lingering pecks.

 

“Hi,” Louis smiled and leaned his forehead against Harry’s. “I thought I’d dreamt that- Don’t burn me with whatever that thing is you’re holding.” He shied away from the still smoking something. Why wasn’t the fire alarm being set off?

 

“I would  _ never. _ ” Harry exclaimed in mock offense, his palm coming up to his chest, to demonstrate the same.

 

Then, with a smile, he started explaining. He was doing some cleansing with the bundle of dried sage - smudging, as it apparently was called. Smudging was used to clear heavy energy from people, places or objects. The smoke from a sage bundle would carry the heaviness away and out through the open windows. 

 

Harry thought that it would do Louis and the kids good to have their space cleansed after all the fighting and sadness that had been lately.

 

Louis was so thankful for his weird, sweet little hippie.

 

“Can you do me?” Louis asked and Harry’s mouth fell open as he stared at him. 

 

“With the sage-thingy?” he clarified with a smirk and a pointed look.

 

“Oh! Sure, sure.” Harry was flustered, cheeks beginning to blush beautifully. “You stand still here, and I’ll just-”

 

He tapped the sage bundle on a small dish on the living room table, to get the ashes and other loose shreds to fall off. Then he looked at Louis, kissed him once and started humming while waving the sage around Louis.

 

It was endearing, the way Harry concentrated on this. His eyebrows were drawn together in focus and he seemed to look beyond Louis, even when his eyes were straight on him.

 

“It smells good.” Louis commented as Harry walked around him, just humming in response.

 

“Is the humming some sort of mantra that needs to go with this smudging?” Louis asked once Harry was done.

 

“No, I just felt like humming.” Harry chuckled. “With the smudging you just need to have the intention to clear out unneeded energies, maybe ask your guides and angels for help, and then you’re good to go. No humming necessary.”

 

“I brought other stuff too, to get you to relax.” Harry continued to talk while putting out the sage on the dish, like a cigar really.   

 

Louis’ heart rate picked up in slight distress, as he interpreted the vagueness of his boyfriend’s statement.

 

“Stuff? What kind of stuff? Condoms and lube? W-we-” Louis stuttered. 

 

He felt the panic rise and all his insecurities waking up with full force, both battling for the front row seat in the shit show that was Louis emotions. “Harry, we haven’t talked about it and I don’t-”

 

Harry giggled and drew in Louis close to him to calm him down, hands soothingly rubbing his back and shoulders. “No… not sex stuff. Bath stuff.” He smiled and looked adoringly at Louis.

 

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

Harry was a rock. He was just as vulnerable as Louis, he had recently learned, but still a rock. Steady, brave and as wise as they came.

 

After they ate the lunch Harry had put into the oven while Louis was still asleep, he proceeded to make good of his promise to get Louis to relax.

 

Harry pulled out his magic and made Louis a bath with herbs. 

 

The bath stuff he had brought might as well have been food stuff, Louis thought, because that was what it was.  

 

Once Harry had lit a million candles in the bathroom, dimmed the electric lights and filled the tub with hot water, he took a piece of cloth, approximately the size of his palm, and started scooping herbs on it from the small glass jars they were in.

 

“Lavender, rosemary and thyme, one spoon of each.” Harry informed. “For calming and cleansing.”

 

Then he folded the corners of the cloth together, tied a string around and dropped into the bath water.

 

“It’s like a tea bag.” Louis commented, confused to how this was supposed to do any good.

 

“Kind of like a tea bag, yeah.” Harry laughed.

 

Then he sliced a lime and threw the slices into the water. A few drops of an essential oil was added. Lime, for bringing about playfulness and feelings of freedom, apparently.

 

Before Harry ordered Louis to strip and submerge himself in the water, he added a few spoonfuls of Himalayan salt and bicarbonate to the water, for energy cleansing purposes.

 

Alright then.

 

Louis quite enjoyed being in the nice smelling water, with lime slices floating around on the surface. 

 

“Why didn’t you just use regular bath salt, or a bath bomb or something?” he asked.

 

Harry sat on a small stool beside the tub, his hand lazily swirling back and forth in the water. 

“There’s no need for artificially fragranced and mass-manufactured products. Everything you need is found in nature,” he explained.  

 

Louis agreed and he found it exciting and impressive that Harry knew what to do with things he himself viewed as strictly food or strictly plants.

 

They talked about different subjects, Harry asked about how the past few days had been and Louis answered. To his surprise, he felt no anxiety or agitation surface while he spoke about Joseph. 

 

Huh, guess the herbs and lime were doing a good job.  

 

“I should have done something more back then,” Louis said as he was describing an event a couple of years earlier, where Jonathan had run away from Joseph.

 

He had come home one afternoon, upset to a degree that Louis had never seen before, and telling Louis that he had had a fight with Joseph because he was once again trying to force the then 14 year old to come to the gym with him. Jonathan had refused and then fled to Louis’ once he was left alone.

 

He had then cried for a long time, telling Louis about how he was made to weigh himself every day, to see if he had gained weight. Since he kept being his scrawny self, his papa had decided that he needed to build muscle at the gym.

 

_ ‘Why am I not good enough?’   _ The boy had cried, and Louis had cried with him, doing his best to assure him that he was perfect the way he was.

 

The memory still broke his heart into shreds.

 

He told Harry about how he tried, once again, to get help from social services. And how he was, once again, only viewed as the jealous ex who tried to sabotage and destroy someone’s reputation and relationship.  

 

“If I had been more persistent back then, maybe he wouldn’t be cutting himself.” Louis pondered.

 

Harry let his hand in the water drift to Louis shoulder, where he caressed him soothingly. 

 

“Lou, don’t do this to yourself. Nothing comes out of blaming yourself like this.”

 

“I know,” Louis took his hand, wiggled his fingers in between Harry’s, and squeezed. “It’s just that I have no other outlet for my thoughts.”

 

“I try my hardest to give them good values, self esteem and the ability to love themselves. And there he is, on the other side, eating away at them with his derogatory ways. Putting them down with the same kind of emotional abuse he used on me.” Louis gritted out. “And I can’t do anything but watch them suffer!”

 

Harry was silent for a while. Louis closed his eyes and willed the herb water to take away all his anger.

 

Harry shifted in his chair and guided Louis to sit up, so he could reach to wash his hair.

 

“I think you should tell the kids what he has done,” he then stated firmly.

 

Louis flinched so violently that he almost jumped out of the water. He turned his head to look at Harry with outrage. “Are you crazy? I can’t do that!”

 

“You can,” Harry started and paused for a second, like he was mulling it over again. He nodded to himself and added “and you should.”

 

Harry massaged Louis’ scalp as he was lathering the shampoo. Louis had no words to answer with, he just closed his eyes in resignation.  

 

“If the kids knew about what he has done to you, everything would be so much easier.” Harry pressed, fingers working on Louis’ head. “Then you can explain to them why you can’t just talk to him and make him change his mind about controlling just about everyone.”

 

“But what about the kids? How much will it hurt them to know what a psycho their father is?” Louis asked calmly,  _ way _ too calmly for the level of anxiety that was building up inside of him. 

 

He was getting fidgety. “What if… what if they try to confront Joseph? Not only will I get hell for telling the kids, there will be consequences for them too!” Louis exclaimed, feeling tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and his airways constricting.

 

A panic attack was rolling in fast as hell.  

 

Harry leaned in over the edge of the bathtub and enveloped Louis in a tight embrace.

 

“Shh, shhh,” he was humming and shushing sootingly in Louis’ ear. “Breathe, baby. Shhh, breathe.”

 

Louis focused on Harry’s hums. His whole body straining to take breath after breath.

 

Harry continued talking quietly and steadily in Louis ear. “Subconsciously they already know what has happened, you know. You carry that energy with you, so they know. They just don't have any conscious context to it.”

 

Louis breathed.

 

“It would help them. They would also know about your worry, and together you could strategise…”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Okay, baby.” Harry kissed Louis temple. “Can you lay back so I can wash away the shampoo?”

 

Louis drew a deep breath, closed his eyes and submerged fully in the water. He could feel Harry’s hands quickly ruffling about in his hair.

 

Wash away everything. Wash away, magic water, wash away. Everything.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> What did you think about this chapter?


	19. The Camping Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three people read through this chapter several times. This morning the plural of leaf was still spelled ‘leafs’. Fuck. When you find weirdness, let me know so I can fix it. 
> 
>  
> 
> No triggers really. Louis is a bit insecure and Harry is reminescing about bad stuff, but this is mostly a fun one. :) 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> When You Say Nothing At All - Ronan Keating  
> Suburbia - Troye Sivan  
> Curly Sue - Takida  
> Friday I’m In Love - The Cure
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w

 

 

Once school was out for the summer, the kids packed up and left for a two week vacation trip with their other parent. Apparently they had rented a cottage by the coast somewhere. Louis couldn’t really be bothered to remember exactly where, but the kids were excited about it.

 

While he had been reluctant, in that typical Louis kind of way, to let the kids leave for such an extended period of time when neither of them were feeling well, he was actually enjoying the feeling of being liberated from his parental duties for a bit longer than usual.

 

Of course, Jonathan and Rose both had strict instructions to send daily texts with updates on moods and doings, and to call immediately if something happened. 

 

For once, Louis was kind of able to let the insistent worry rest and trust that the kids would contact him if they needed him.  

 

Maybe it was that, and not the absence of children, that was the real reason for Louis’ newfound serenity.

 

Three days after the kids left, Harry lovingly demanded that they go on that camping trip they’d talked about so many times.

 

While Louis was still very much content with just being at home, knowing that no kids would come barging in unexpectedly for weeks, he had agreed. And he was really excited about doing something new and fun. Well, Harry swore it would be fun, Louis was not entirely convinced.

 

They decided that the upcoming Friday morning was a good time to leave the safety of the  inside of the rigid walls of a city flat and head for the leafiness that was the woods.

 

That left them two days to finish up work obligations and acquire provisions and other necessary things.

 

* * *

 

Louis was in his bedroom, busy with packing the backpack he borrowed from Harry, when he came to think of something that made him uncertain about the entire trip. He pondered and tried to imagine different ways to go about, but eventually he had to give up. He wasn’t sure what the proper course of action was.

 

“Harry.” Louis called and let the shorts he was folding drop next to the brightly red hiker backpack on the bed.

 

He walked into the kitchen, where Harry was sitting, slowly typing on his laptop. Louis smiled to himself. Harry had never learned the correct hand positions when typing and it was endlessly cute when he tried to mimic the way Louis typed.  

 

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked conversationally, leaning his hip against the end of the counter, right next to the kitchen table. An empty cup of tea stood there and Louis felt a faint craving to try the new mandarin tea he’d bought. All these new teas were so exciting to try out.

 

“Yeah.” Harry answered without lifting his eyes from where he was hunching his back and squinting his eyes, trying to see what he was writing. Maybe some glasses were needed.

 

“How do you…” Louis scrunched his nose, feeling silly with a basic type of question like this. “Ehm…Poop? In the woods?”

 

Harry looked up at Louis with wide eyes, like he was trying to figure out if Louis was being serious or not. Then he burst into melodic laughter.

 

Louis felt his cheeks heat up. He knew it was a stupid question.

 

“Come here.” Harry said as he slid back the chair and opened his arms. Louis went willingly and let himself be pulled down on Harry’s lap. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m actually really proud of you to ask even the silly, crazy questions.”

 

Louis closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Harry’s temple. “Right…”

 

“Usually people just dig a hole and poop in it.” Harry snickered. “I have this trowel in my backpack that I use for digging. I also bring toilet paper with me, so there’s no need to worry about finding something to- ”

 

“And you put it back in the backpack?” Louis interrupted him, a little scandalised.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t dig around in the poop. I dig in dirt and then use it to cover the hole again.”

 

“Alright.” Louis abruptly got off Harry’s lap and sashayed away nonchalantly, back to packing his bag, like nothing even had happened. Hearing Harry’s endeared chuckles behind him made him smile with accomplishment.

 

They were at the bodily-functions-don’t-weird-me-out stage in their relationship. A stage that was never reached in Louis’ second marriage.

 

* * *

 

Harry wanted Louis to see the forest that had been a sanctuary for his teenage self. 

 

It was a few hours drive to Harry’s hometown, most of which Louis spent dozing off in the passenger seat.

 

For the past hour or so, Louis had been awake though. He just kept looking out the window, admiring the scenery. Occasionally, he let his hand wander over to pat Harry’s thigh or to squeeze his hand or fiddle with his shirt.

 

The urge to constantly touch him had grown stronger over the past few days.

 

In the months he’d known Harry, the words  _ I love you _ had slowly wormed their way from Louis heart, to his brain, to his tongue. Now they were wanting to be said out loud. They wanted to flutter in the open air, like a bunch of fearless butterflies, finally set free after weeks and weeks in captivity.

 

Louis - the broken, scarred and only partially healed pieces of him - didn’t want anything to be said out loud. Not now.

 

So he kept quiet, watched the scenery and reached out to touch Harry every time the impulse came.

 

“You know, I often find out new things about you, and every one of them always makes it to the top of the list.” Harry confessed with a secretive smile as he glanced over at Louis, whose fingers were currently at the back of Harry's neck, twirling the curls that had come loose from the bun.

 

“Really? Like what?” Louis’ fingers stilled as he turned his head to look straight at Harry. “And what list?”

 

“My ‘favourite things about Louis’-list, of course,” Harry chuckled and turned his gaze to the road.  

 

Louis couldn’t respond. He only blinked at Harry, too surprised that he kept such close track of all things Louis that he had a mental list. Or was it a literal one, maybe?

 

“Like this right here, this comfortable silence. I admire your way of not needing to fill every moment with chatter. Silence is perfectly fine.”

 

Louis could relate, he felt that about Harry too. Enjoyed the way there wasn’t always need to have an ongoing conversation. But just as easily as their shared silence, they could effortlessly talk about most things.

 

Come to think about it, Louis only felt comfortable with people who allowed him to be alone in their company. His friends were all like that, his kids and his oldest sibling Erin too. And Harry.     

 

* * *

 

Once they arrived in Harry’s hometown, Louis felt nervousness stir in the pit of his stomach, as the car slowed down and open nature scenery was traded against buildings.

 

He was about to meet Harry’s sister. They would park the car in her driveway and get Harry’s tent and a few other items from her storage.

 

Harry’s sister Alice lived just down the road from the house they grew up in. Harry pointed at the house as they drove by and claimed there was no need to look any closer at it.

 

The forest that Louis assumed they were going to spend a few days in, was practically in the backyard of said house. Harry mentioned that he didn’t like to take that route to his favourite spots anymore - too many memories were attached to it.

 

Louis felt his heart constrict painfully and thought that maybe Harry’s unhealed wounds were a lot more like Louis’ PTSD symptoms than he’d previously realised.

 

He’d have to bring it up at some point.  

 

* * *

 

Alice was a woman who radiated an interesting mixture of warmth and mischief. 

 

She greeted them both with hearty, welcoming hugs and Louis liked her immediately. 

 

She had food ready for them so they stayed for lunch and chatted with her a while before leaving.

 

Louis made sure to visit the loo once more before they left. Hopefully he’d get to avoid pooping in holes in the woods.

 

* * *

 

They were standing by the boot of Harry’s car, lifting out their bags, when Louis brought up the topic of Harry’s avoidance and carefully suggested that maybe needed to take the path through his old garden.

 

“Nah, we’re going around that field and straight across the next one,” Harry explained absentmindedly as he made some vague pointing gesture behind him. “It takes a while longer to get to the tree line, but it’s an easy trek.”

 

Harry had just secured the tent to his backpack and was reaching for his jacket when Louis stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

 

“Baby,” Louis started once he’d made sure to have eye contact with Harry. “Not only do I want to see everything just like you experienced them as a child, but I think that it would do you good to walk the exact road you’re avoiding.” He finished knowingly, not letting go of Harry’s gaze.

 

Harry’s look changed to one of surprise, eyebrows high and eyes wide. Then the corners of his mouth turned into a scowl and Louis expected him to protest. But Harry just sighed and slumped against Louis.

 

He buried his face in Louis’ neck and inhaled deeply a few times. Louis tightened the embrace, letting Harry process things in his own time.

 

“You’re right. It’s just- ” Harry mumbled defeatedly, as he straightened his back to look over Louis shoulder, towards his childhood home. “It’s so easy to ignore these things when you know how to fix them, you know?”

 

“I know.” Louis smiled. He knew this weird sort of procrastination, where a known solution to a problem made fixing the problem seem less important.  

 

“Ever since I noticed my avoidance behaviour, I felt it was more important for me to get to the woods and be able to connect, than to deal with the reason that caused the avoidance.” Harry continued to explain, once again slumping down to hide his face in Louis’ neck.

 

Louis stroked Harry’s sides, his t-shirt bunching up and showing a sliver of skin along the waistline of his trousers. “You won’t have to handle this alone now,” he murmured into Harry’s ear before giving his jaw a few affectionate kisses.

 

“You’re right.” Harry sucked in a deep breath as he stood up straight again, letting go of Louis’ embrace.

 

Then he placed both hands on Louis’ face and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips.

 

He drew back with a large, blinding smile. “Come on then,” Harry commanded. He picked up his backpack, closed and locked the boot of his car and started marching down the driveway.

 

Once he was at the end of it, not really more than five or so metres away, he turned back to Louis with a crooked smile. Then he went right, towards his old house, instead of turning left, towards the field.

 

Louis was kind of breathless. Why, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was Harry’s blinding beauty, something Louis would never get used to. Maybe it was the determined courage he’d just demonstrated. Or maybe it was the glint of mischief in his eyes, mixed with a slight sexual suggestiveness.

 

_ I love you. _

 

It might be a mix of everything.

 

Louis scrambled to get his backpack on and scurried after as fast as his feet allowed.

 

* * *

 

The house Harry grew up in was the last one on the street - or first, depending on which way you came from.

 

It was surrounded by a sizeable garden with a lot of flower beds, fruit trees and a few grassy areas in between. While a wooden fence with a gate marked the outermost edge to the street - as well as the neighbouring garden - a bushy, waist-high hedge was the border towards the wild grown grassy fields on the other side, beyond the ditch next to the hedge.

 

There was a well trampled path between the hedge and the ditch, which Harry opted to take since he didn’t really know the current occupants of the house.

 

There was no fence or hedge at the end of the garden towards the forest. A tree and a few large bushes could be viewed as the line between wilderness and someone’s backyard.  

 

“Mum was always annoyed when rabbits or deers came into our garden and ate her tulips,” Harry said with a nostalgic smile as he pointed at the lack of fencing.

 

They had rounded the hedge and were now standing outside the garden border, between two of the smaller bushes, looking in. A few clouds blocked out the sun and provided the neighbourhood with much needed shade. Thank god, Louis was already starting to feel a little overheated.

 

Harry pointed and told a few of his memories from here. He showed which window used to be his bedroom and what path he usually took when he ran to get refuge in the woods.

 

Louis could see and feel the pride emanating from Harry when he told his stories and, with large arm gestures, tried to convey how things used to be around here. Like a proper tour guide, he pointed with his whole hand while he talked. Or maybe the gesture was more of that of a flight attendants?

 

“That part of the forest, where we originally were going to go through, is more contained. It’s just a small patch, takes about thirty minutes to walk through and then there’s a similar neighbourhood to this one on the other side,” Harry explained over the noise of a car driving by on the street.

 

Louis nodded, holding tight to the straps of his backpack, trying to ease the weight a bit. He was not going to take it off when they hadn’t even started the hike yet.  

 

“Every time we had some sort of field day in school, that’s where we went.” Harry shook his head like he was sick and tired of the whole concept.

 

“Where are we going then?” Louis asked, confused.

 

“To the other side.” Harry waved and gestured with his other arm.

 

Louis snorted. Yeah, those were the gestures of a flight attendant.

 

Instead of continuing his story, Harry fell silent. Louis watched as his demeanor shifted. He shoved his hands in his pockets and let his shoulders slump a bit as he stared back towards the house with a far away look in his beautiful eyes.

 

Louis could feel the heaviness of memories and emotions Harry surely was reliving. 

 

Carefully he placed a hand on Harry’s arm.  

 

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, looking up at Harry, who seemed to be startled out of his thoughts, eyes flitting around Louis face like they couldn’t focus on one point.

 

“Sad,” was his simple answer. He drew in a shaky breath, followed by a heartbreaking sigh. 

 

His eyes were filling with unshed tears and Louis couldn’t help but place a small, tender kiss at the corner of Harry’s lips. 

 

He was so, so beautiful. The tears in his eyes seemed to make them greener, clearer somehow.

 

“Do you want to tell me what you’re sad about?” Louis asked carefully, afraid that Harry would interpret the question as mocking. Because it was clear what he was sad about, wasn’t it? But sometimes it was important to say things out loud.

 

_ Like the I love you _ , Louis’ treacherous brain supplied.

 

“The lost potential.” Harry sighed eventually, turning towards Louis and letting himself be hugged and held. “Your childhood memories should be nice and good, right? They should not run through you like poison, trying to corrode your intestines.”

 

Yeah, Louis knew.

 

“This place here, brings mostly memories of anger, hatred and desperation.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis didn’t know how to comfort him, he just kept squeezing around Harry’s waist as much as he can.

 

As Harry let go of Louis he turned away from the house and started walking into the forest, along the ditch. Louis followed closely behind.

 

They didn’t get very far before Harry suddenly stopped and turned around.

 

“Do you want to see a picture of her?” He asked.

 

Louis nodded, assuming he meant his mother. Harry dug out his phone and searched for a while before showing the picture to Louis.

 

“She’s beautiful.” Louis said without hesitation as he took in the image of a dark haired woman, who was basically an older, female version of Harry. “You look like her.”

 

“Yeah,” Harry snorted and put his phone back into the side pocket on his leg. “I used to be bothered by that. Hated the fact that I looked like a small boy version of her.” he said and started walking again.  

 

“And now?”

 

“Now I make the best I can of our shared genes.” he proudly said to the accompaniment of birds chirping somewhere above them.

 

* * *

 

Their first stop came about an hour and a half later.

 

Harry had walked kind of far ahead of Louis most of the time, and he felt stupid. Not only was he clearly slowing Harry down, but he didn’t even have the right equipment.

 

Once they had hopped over the ditch - Harry had just leaped over like it was nothing, backpack on and everything. Louis had to take off his backpack and throw it over before he could even attempt to jump. And even then, Harry had to extend his arm for Louis to grab on to and hoist himself over, as his jump came a bit short.

 

Anyway, once they had hopped over the ditch and made their way into the bigger forest, Harry had sped up, probably because Louis was stupid and didn’t know how to hike in the woods.

 

They hadn’t really talked at all after that. Louis fell behind, where he walked in his ratty jeans and old sneakers, feeling bad for himself.

 

Every now and then he looked at Harry, who had real boots and was dressed in outdoor clothing, looking all manly and hot. Louis could tell even from this distance, that he was very sexy. Very outdoorsy and manly.  

 

Louis wished he had prepared more for this. Bought some real stuff, maybe gone out to the woods at home to practice walking fast in this kind of terrain. 

 

He felt inadequate and lonely, spending most of the trek quietly fighting tears and watching his step as the ferns and other leafy vegetation on the sides of the path brushed against his legs.

 

He could’ve called for Harry, asked him to slow down and pay attention to Louis. But he suspected that there was a reason (other than the one Louis’ demons provided) he had created that distance between them. If he needed to be alone and let the forest absorb whatever he was hashing through, Louis wasn’t going to whine about his stupid insecurities.

 

When the rippling sounds of a creek joined the forest noises and the stumbling of his own steps, Louis was brought back from his self bashing thoughts by Harry’s voice way closer to him than he expected.

 

“How are you feeling, baby?”

 

Louis looked up and noticed Harry standing just a few metres away, not the hundred or two that was their distance the last time he’d looked.

 

“Alright,” Louis mumbled, letting his gaze fall to the ground as he wiped some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “I could use some rest, though.”

 

“Yeah, there’s a good place on the other side of this creek,” Harry said and pointed towards a wooden crossover further down. “I thought we’d sit down for a while, maybe have some tea if you’re up for it.” Harry smiled sweetly.

 

Louis nodded and made the move to walk past Harry, towards the few old planks that was the crossover.

 

“Hey…” Harry grabbed him gently by the wrist and Louis was pulled back a bit towards him. “What’s the matter?”

 

Of course Harry would notice that he was being weird.

 

Louis first instinct was to refuse eye contact and play it off like it was nothing. But for some reason he decided to look at Harry straight in the eyes and simply let him see. He felt pathetic as he looked up and wished for Harry to just see, to know what had been going through his mind.

 

He must’ve looked pathetic too - a sweaty and teary grown man with a borrowed backpack as the only real outdoor gear he had with him, standing an arms length away and trying to communicate telepathically because it was too embarrassing to say things out loud.

 

“Oh, Lou, I’m sorry,” Harry’s beautiful face crumpled in sympathy and he pulled Louis against his chest.  

 

Louis let himself be hugged and breathed in Harry’s musky scent, a bit sweatier than usual.

 

“It’s alright. I was just… a little lonely.” He mumbled into Harry’s collarbone. “Thought maybe I did something wrong, since I’m not that experienced.”

 

“No, Lou, no. It wasn’t you. I needed to- I had to work through-”

 

“Shh... “ Louis cut him off with a sweet kiss and both hands on his cheeks. “I know- or I hoped that was the case. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. Maybe next time, just say you need some space?”

 

“Yeah, I should have said something.” Harry agreed and placed a few more kisses on Louis’ lips. “Do you want to walk first? Set the pace?”

 

Louis answered with a blinding smile, his eyes almost shut with how wide he was smiling.

 

“Yes. Thank you.”

 

_ I love you. _

 

* * *

 

After the short stop by the creek - which Louis opted to have without tea - they continued their hike on winding, narrow paths towards the first place Harry wanted to show him.

 

Louis walked first and Harry navigated from behind him by instructing him where to go.

 

Harry was actually talking a lot, constantly pointing out some crossing paths and telling Louis about the clearings and the hills and the trees and the rocks they lead to, that they wouldn’t visit this time around.

 

“It’s a shame that backpack of yours goes so low, it’s hiding all the good parts.” Harry commented at one point.

 

Louis wanted to turn around and lightly swat at him for objectifying him, but said backpack was really heavy, preventing any kind of sudden movements or turns.

 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when Harry informed him that they would go off the path and down the hill.

 

A few moments later a giggling Harry launched himself at a gnarled birch tree. The tree looked old and weird with moss climbing up along the trunk and half of the branches missing leaves.

 

Harry was patting the tree, giggling and mumbling different things in greeting. He pressed his cheek against the trunk and hummed soothingly. Louis could hear him say things like “It’s alright, I’m here, so happy to see you too.”

 

So this was Harry’s tree then. And by the way Harry was behaving, this tree surely greeted him like a puppy would. Louis smiled amusedly at his weirdo boyfriend.

 

“Lou, come here, come say hi.” Harry waved him over excitedly, joy radiating from his entire being.

 

Louis pressed the plastic buckles to unhook the straps over his chest and lower stomach, took the backpack off and lowered it to the ground.

 

As he went over to Harry, he heard him talk to the tree. “This is Louis, the one I told you about.”

 

“You told the tree about me? When?” Louis asked incredulously, before looking up at the tree.

 

“Hi... Uhh, nice to meet you?” 

 

What were you even supposed to say when meeting someone’s tree?

 

“Ehm, after new years.” Hand still petting the tree trunk, Harry’s smile faded a bit and he stammered. “I came here to work through my fear and disappointment... when, um, when you rejected me?”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Now put your hand here and tell me what you feel.” Harry yanked Louis closer and put his hand on the tree.

 

Louis was a little unprepared, so at first there was nothing. He felt tree, bark, some distant wind, Harry’s warm breath next to him, the softness of the soil and moss beneath his feet, nothing else. 

 

Harry instructed him to take a few breaths and try to clear his mind.

 

“Oh. It’s happy.” Louis exclaimed in both wonder and disbelief, eyes darting to Harry, who nodded eagerly, smile taking over his entire face.

 

“Can you hear why he’s happy?” he asked.

 

“Because you’re here, obviously. I saw the way you both behaved a moment ago.” Louis guessed, perfectly aware of how bizarre the entire conversation was.

 

“Yeah, but listen closer.”

 

Louis tried to focus, turning his eyes back up at the tree. He felt a bit crazy with his hand on a tree, trying to hear what it has to say.

 

Harry was bouncing excitedly, like he couldn’t wait to talk about what the tree was saying.

 

An idea entered Louis thoughts, an image of a graying old man, carefully reaching towards Louis, taking his hands and transferring his feelings of gratitude to him. 

 

Louis eyes widened and he looked at Harry, who was just nodding happily at Louis’ apparent progress.

 

The word home flashed through Louis’ consciousness and then there was a simple, unexplainable knowing.  

 

“It’s-  _ He’s  _ happy that you…” Louis furrowed his brows as he tried to find the words to describe this sudden knowing he’d felt. “That you have finally found your home.”

 

Harry was nodding so wildly that it could be likened to the head banging that took place in heavy metal concerts. His smile was bright and contagious, his eyes radiated so much happiness, there were deep dimples showing on both cheeks and he was just... out of this world.

 

Louis was in awe.

 

“I’m- H-he thanked me.” Louis choked up a bit, “I’m your home?”

 

“Yeah, baby, you are.”  

 

* * *

 

Harry wanted to meditate by the tree. While he did that, Louis sat cross legged on a large rock, drinking water from a bottle.

 

“I can’t believe I was talking to a tree,” he occasionally muttered to himself. Every now and then he glared suspiciously at the tree, which felt like it was smiling back.

 

He contemplated pulling out his phone to play something, but thought it would be better if he saved the battery life. They had a portable solar panel charger with them, but it was probably better not to waste anything.

 

So he opted to just sit still and look around until Harry was done.

 

* * *

 

When they finally made it to the place where they would set up camp, it was late in the afternoon. Roughly three hours after they’d left Alice’s.

 

The area was a pretty big clearing, with tall grass and a few small bushes on the side they came from. That gradually changed to more and more naked ground towards the treeline on the other side. A lone, tall pine tree was standing in the middle of the clearing, just where the grass thinned down.

 

On the other side there were a few really large rocks, and in between the two largest of them, a small wooden wind shelter had been built.

 

In front of the wind shelter was a fireplace made of stones, probably gathered from around the clearing. When they came closer, Louis saw that there was even a rusty steel grate lying on the stones, probably taken from a barbecue grill once.

 

“Alright. We’ll stay here tonight at least.” Harry announced while stretching once he’d gotten his backpack off. “I’m having a wee.” He said and promptly walked behind the shelter.

 

Louis needed to have a wee too, so he turned and walked toward the treeline.

 

When he got back, Harry was starting a fire in the fireplace. Louis climbed up on the floor of the wind shelter to watch.

 

“Is that a tampon?” Louis asked unbelievingly. What even was this trip? Had he been taking drugs?

 

“Yeah, they’re perfect for this purpose.” Harry chuckled. “Always bring a firesteel kit and a bunch of tampons. You’re guaranteed a fire.”

 

And then the tampon was on fire, waiting for the firewood to catch on. Apparently Harry kept a stack of firewood under the shelter at all times. Tomorrow they would go out and restock, so there would be dry wood for the next time someone stayed here.

 

“So, do you want to set up the tent or sleep in that top notch wind shelter I once built?”

 

“ _ You _ built this?” Louis was beyond baffled. And very impressed.

 

The shelter was very well constructed. The floor, made of wooden planks, was raised about a foot above the ground. The walls on three sides were of logs and the roof was made of roughly cut planks with some tar on top of that. The size of the floor was about the same as a double bed and the roof was a bit higher than the height of a normal person sitting up.

 

Harry nodded, smiling proudly.

 

“When? How?”

 

“I was 17-ish and had been living here about three weeks, in a similar but smaller shelter made of branches, grass and moss. The farmer who owns these parts of the woods came and talked to me one day.” Harry stirred in the fire with a stick while talking.

 

“He’d been doing some reconnaissance for some months and had found the shelter by chance. He got curious to who had built it, so he came around every now and then to find out. He said he’d seen it inhabited by me several times, but never for as long as that time. He was worried. Knew who I was and knew of my mother.”

 

“I told him that I often escaped here, or other parts of these woods. I told him why and then apologised for the intrusion and promised to tear down the rickety shelter and relocate to another part of the woods.”

 

Harry came to sit next to Louis on the shelter floor.

 

“Wasn’t it creepy, to know that he’d seen you before? Did you know you were being watched?” Louis was intrigued by Harry’s story, but also a little worried.

 

“Nah, he’s a nice man. I saw him around sometimes too. You don’t really greet people in the woods unless you’re at talking distance.” Harry chuckled.  

 

“Anyway, he then asked how I had learned to build a shelter like this. When I told him that I had followed instructions from a book I found at the library, he contemplated for a while and then offered to bring some real material for me if I wanted to try to build a steadier one.”

 

“Really?” Louis couldn't believe it.

 

“Yeah. He was planning on cutting down some trees a bit further away. Said I could have a few of them if I was up for it. A few weeks later, a tractor came with the logs and some tools. I started building.”  

 

“Oh, wow.” Louis was speechless, so thoroughly in awe of this man in front of him. So impressed by this man.

 

So in love with this man.

 

Louis looked around, inspected the shelter more closely. Two people could easily fit there. Just roll out the sleeping bags and it would be done. However, the thought of not being able to close a door behind him was a bit scary - or a lot scary. It would be like sleeping outside, unprotected. The tent would be a barrier, still outside, but inside.

 

Louis needed the tent.

 

“Oh, how you wound me darling, by rejecting the beautiful fortress. The one I made with my own bare hands.” Harry exclaimed dramatically and fell backwards, holding on to his chest like he had actual bleeding wounds there.

 

Louis looked at Harry laying on the shelter floor and giggled happily, before clearing his throat a few times and fixing Harry with a serious glare.

 

“There are ants here, Harry.” He whined. 

 

And that was all the reason this diva would need to be granted a night in a tent.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Comments on the weirdness? Comments on the fun? Comments on the slightly sad stuff? Talk to me, people. <3


	20. The Summer Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite chapter. 
> 
> **Trigger warning:**  
>  Smut.  
> Talk about negligence and emotional manipulation. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Bad things - Jace Everett  
> Trumpets - Jason Derulo  
> Truly Madly Deeply - Savage Garden  
> I’m yours - Jason Mraz
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  

With the evening sun slowly disappearing behind the treetops, Louis and Harry decided to set up the tent before cooking dinner on the fire and having a very well deserved cup of tea.

 

Raising the tent turned out to be a lot of fun.

 

Louis started as the self appointed manager, insisting that everything would go a lot better if he just supervised and Harry did what he was good at - being outdoorsy and handsome.

 

“Because I know nothing about, you know, tenting.” Louis proclaimed with an impatient hand gesture from where he was sitting cross legged on the ground, while glaring at all the tent poles scattered around him.  

 

“I’ll show you tenting,” Harry cackled amusedly and launched himself at Louis, knocking him over.

 

With breathless laughter and a lighthearted glint to his eyes, Louis welcomed this playful side of Harry as he leaned up to connect their lips, while trying not to think about all the creepy-crawlies that might find their way into his hair.

 

They spent quite a few moments giggling and snogging on the ground, with Harry laying on top of Louis, slowly grinding down on him. Once Harry deemed it enough, he sat back on his haunches and helped Louis up into a sitting position.

 

“Now that I know that you  _ are  _ tenting,” Harry smirked, out of breath, “let’s do this together,” he said and nodded towards the tent parts haphazardly spread across the ground.

 

Louis huffed in fake annoyance, before he kissed Harry on the nose and took the pole he was handed.

 

“Is there an instruction manual?” Louis wanted to know, eyes squinting as he inspected both ends of the pole, trying to decipher where in the tent’s skeleton it might belong.

 

“I have never seen one, but there probably was one at some point.” Harry said. “In the eighties, or so.”

 

The tent was an old one, with thick, dark blue canvas and steel poles that you had to fit together. Quite different from the modern day versions Louis had seen, with the plastic shells and flexible fibreglass poles that were held in the right order with elastic strings on the inside.

 

Harry claimed to have two more tents, of different modern varieties, but this was his favourite one.

 

Once the tent was set up and thoroughly secured to the ground next to one of the large rocks opposite Harry’s wind shelter, Louis felt the exhaustion in his bones.

 

He sat in front of the tent and and drank the last of his after dinner tea. He noticed Harry looking at him curiously from the fireplace, where he was making sure the fire was put out. He was obviously trying to hold back laughter.

 

“What?”

 

Harry walked over to him on his knees and started to pick things from his hair. “You’re so beautiful, with pine needles and bark in you hair,” he smiled.

 

Before Louis had the chance to protest, Harry kissed him passionately.

 

“Mmm, do you- do you want to lay down in the tent?” He asked a few heated moments later.

 

Louis was exhausted, but he wouldn’t mind getting off with Harry before he fell asleep. They had brought wet wipes, so a little come could easily be cleaned off of their bodies. No problem.

 

While Harry walked the few steps to get their backpacks from the shelter, Louis crawled into the tent and kicked off his shoes in the corner. 

 

In the tent, two sleeping bags were neatly rolled out onto two camping mats. He laid down across both sleeping bags and spread out his arms and legs, like a starfish, closed his eyes and smiled in content. Louis’ whole body ached from the exertion of hiking and it felt so good to finally be horizontal.  

 

Moments later, the tent canvas rustled and he could feel Harry jostling around, possibly undressing. Louis couldn’t be arsed to open his eyes.

 

A smile spread on his lips when he could feel Harry crawling on top of him, stopping mid way to pull his t-shirt up and place a few kisses just above the waistline of his jeans, before hungrily kissing him on the mouth. Louis’ dick was fattening up quickly.

 

“Why are you still dressed?” Harry asked hoarsely and continued to mumble sweet things against the skin of Louis’ jaw and neck while his hands were working on getting his jeans off.

 

Louis focused on the pleasant thrumming in his veins that Harry’s actions were creating. He wanted to revel in it and hold on to that feeling. 

 

Harry had a habit of making Louis feel like a teenager all over again, bringing back the optimistic and carefree kind of happiness Louis remembered feeling with his first boyfriend all those years ago.

 

But lately, more often than not, their sexual encounters had a slight murkiness to them. Harry still was as caring and attentive as ever, and Louis’ mind was reeling every time at how much communicating Harry did during sex - and how it all seemed to come naturally to him.

 

However, Louis was acutely aware, that soon this fumbling around with hand jobs wouldn’t be enough for Harry. Soon he’d want to have full on intercourse as part of his sex life, and Louis wasn’t sure he was there yet - if he would ever get there.  

 

He was insecure and didn’t quite know how to talk to Harry about it. God, he really was like a teenager again.

 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry groaned, pressing his hard length against Louis thigh. “I want to blow you. Can I? Please?”

 

_ What? _

 

Louis’s eyes shot open and he stared at the canvas above him, it was still light enough outside for Louis to see colours and details inside of the tent.

 

“W-what?”

 

In all their months of having sex, they hadn’t done much other than hand jobs and rutting against each other. Harry liked the latter a lot and got off faster than when Louis jerked him off. 

 

Louis had given Harry a few blow jobs too. Because,  _ that  _ he was good at. And Harry liked them a lot too.

 

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” Harry was already scooting downwards, tongue leaving a wet trace from Louis’ neck to his nipple.

 

“N-no,” Louis stammered quietly. “Harry, I’ll do you instead.” He said and tried to sit up and get Harry under him. If anyone would be sucking dick tonight, it was Louis.

 

“Why?” Harry stopped his descent momentarily and looked up with curiosity reflected in his hooded eyes, from where he was laying between Louis’ legs. 

 

“Do you not like blow jobs?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.  

 

“No, that’s not it,” Louis warily started as his insecurities spiked up and he was almost certain that some of it was his PTSD being triggered.

 

He didn’t know how many years it had been since the last time he’d gotten a blow job, but he remembered how it went. It had happened only once in his last relationship and it had been a very brief matter. 

 

Not that his last relationship was any kind of accurate measure to go by. They didn’t do oral, at all, in that marriage. They never even faced each other while having sex, they almost always just spooned with most of their clothes still on.

 

No, Louis insecurities in this matter stemmed from before his second marriage. Although, the manner in which his most recent ex husband had gone about one of the two blow jobs they’d ever shared, was basically the same as everyone else did.

 

The men that willingly and enthusiastically had performed oral sex on him were so few and rare, that they had long ago blended in and disappeared in the chaotic mass of faceless men that was Louis’ past lovers.

 

Mostly men wanted Louis to blow them, or they wanted to fuck. They weren’t interested in giving oral. If they were, it was a short lived task - part of foreplay at the best.

 

Louis had always come to the same conclusion about that.

 

“It’s just that, I don’t think I taste any good.” Louis blinked stoically, “And I don’t want you to be subjected to that.”

 

Harry sat up entirely, his features a mix of outrage and shock, as he fixed Louis with an intense gaze.  

 

“There’s  _ no way _ in hell you don’t taste good.” Harry’s tone was forceful but calm as he slid his hands up and down the outside of Louis thighs, as a comforting gesture. 

 

“Even with the entire day’s worth of sweat- god-” he groaned and closed his eyes as he inhaled. “you smell intoxicating. I can’t even think- that’s how sexy you are. That’s how attracted to you I am.” 

 

His fingers gripped Louis’ thighs desperately. “There’s no chance-  _ no chance _ \- that you don’t taste as intoxicating and heavenly as you look.”

 

The calm in Harry’s voice was replaced with a painful urgency the longer he spoke. He looked like he was desperately trying to convince Louis that he was telling the truth, eyes frantically flickering over Louis’ face, seemingly looking for traces of conviction.   

 

Louis was starting to feel a bit bad. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ want  _ Harry to suck him off, he was scared of being repulsive. The thought of Harry being disgusted with him - Louis shuddered at the theory - he couldn’t even bare it.

 

“I- people don’t- maybe it’s better to just... not?” Louis stuttered. He’d much rather abstain than have Harry disappointed.

 

“Louis, please listen to me.” Harry said, serious voice riddled with pain. “Please?”

 

Louis gave a barely visible nod, starting to feel exposed in only his boxers.

 

Harry took a deep breath, and then carefully crawled on top of Louis again and laid down with deliberate precision, covering as much of his body as he could - which, let’s be honest, was most of it. The weight of him was weirdly soothing. Their faces were close and while intently keeping his eyes locked on Louis’, Harry spoke.

 

“If you really don’t want me to give you a blow job, I won’t. Of course I won’t.” He thumbed Louis’ cheekbone with so much care, that a lump formed in his throat. “But if the  _ only  _ reason for you not wanting this, is the fear of somehow not meeting my expectations, I would like for you to give me a chance to prove you wrong.” He placed a sweet peck right on Louis mouth and let his fingers card through his fringe.

 

Louis stared back at Harry’s earnest eyes and realised that this was yet another one of those times, when he would hurt not only himself, but Harry too, if he wasn’t willing to at least try to overcome his fears.

 

Sometimes the claws of the past held on so damn tight, that they had to be pried off with physical force.

 

Not all bravery was so grand and noble as described in the fairytales. 

 

Sometimes the bravest of acts was letting go of your shields and trusting not to get hurt, to let yourself heal a little while saving others from harm.

 

“I- Okay.” Louis whispered and tried to smile.

 

Sometimes it was nothing short of bravery to let your boyfriend suck you off.

 

“Yeah?” Harry’s whole face lit up with hope.

 

“Yeah,” Louis confirmed before starting up with the kissing again.

 

Not many minutes later, Louis’ boxers were thrown into some distant corner of the tent.

 

Harry held Louis down by his hips and placed open mouthed kisses on his thighs and belly like he was starving. 

 

Louis was nervous.

 

Harry moaned and hummed and clearly enjoyed kissing down his happy trail. Louis let out a little laughter at how wonderfully eager his boyfriend was. Harry sent a proud glance towards him, seemingly noticing how his enthusiasm helped Louis relax.

 

His nerves dissipated as Harry kept hungrily biting and sucking marks on his body. 

 

Louis was having trouble breathing. It was like he had lightning in his veins, sending shocks throughout his body, intermittently constricting different body parts.

 

Without warning Harry sucked the head of his dick into his mouth. Instantly Louis’ needy whimpers turned into loud moans as pleasure shot up and down his spine. 

After a few swirls with his tongue, Harry’s mouth popped off, “You like that, baby?” he asked, looking at Louis with pupils blown wide.

 

Louis’ urgent whining would have to do for an answer, because words? No.

 

He was writhing desperately underneath Harry, hands aimlessly moving to find something to hold on to. Harry’s bicep and the sleeping bag would have to do.

 

As Harry resumed the task at hand, licking up and down his shaft, he released his grip on Louis’ hips and let his hands roam on his body. Large hands everywhere, sending electric sparks throughout Louis’ nervous system.

 

He curled his legs around Harry’s back, holding him in place as he swallowed Louis down entirely. Harry groaned. He seemed to be liking it, getting off from it.

 

Harry cupped his balls, that were drawn tight against his body. How could those wonderful hands be everywhere at the same time?

 

Louis was overwhelmed with pleasure. Delirious, really. His breaths were coming out in shallow puffs and this would all come to an end very soon.   

 

He needed to warn Harry, but words, there were no words. Then Harry did something magical with his tongue at it was all too late. Louis’ entire world went blank as he was coming into Harry’s mouth.

 

A surge of worry entered his brain as the fog started to clear, but Harry was slurping and moaning loudly, rutting hard against the sleeping bag, so it must’ve been alright.

 

“Um…” Louis croaked, minutes or hours later, when he had found his words again. “You came?”  

 

Harry was still lying between Louis legs, resting his head in the middle of Louis’ belly and breathing heavily.

 

“Yeah.” Harry said with a hoarse voice, “Told you, you’re intoxicating.”

 

The smile in his voice could be heard when he added, “Taste like honey and heaven.”

 

As Louis closed his eyes, his hands came up to cradle Harry’s head lovingly. He fiddled with his curls until the pleasurable haze of sleep enveloped them both.

 

* * *

 

Waking up at sunrise, without thick walls and multiple glazed windows filtering the various melodies made by the forest’s birds, was a lovely experience for Louis. He felt happy and free.

 

He hadn’t been camping since he was a teenager. And even then, it was mostly about drinking a lot of beer whilst in the woods. The last time he slept in a tent, they had woken up at noon, with the hangover from hell, to find the remains of their blankets on the fireplace. Who knew what kind of fires they had slept through. Crazy and irresponsible.

 

Now, there was serenity in the way he could hear the wind’s calm caresses of the trees outside and the morning’s sunlight was bright and clear even through the thick tent canvas.

 

Louis found himself alone in the tent, still naked and covered by Harry’s zipped-open  sleeping bag. A wave of affection cursed through him at Harry’s thoughtfulness.

 

Once he was sure that none of the sounds he listened to were caused by Harry, he decided it was best to go out and see what the other man was up to. Well,  _ that _ and his bladder insisting that it’s definitely time to get up, was what finally had him digging in his backpack for joggers and a rumply t-shirt.

 

He stumbled out of the tent and found a happy, bright eyed Harry walking back from the treeline, trowel swinging in hand and a roll of toilet paper under his arm. Louis smiled broadly at him and made a beeline for the trees in the other direction, to relieve his bladder.

 

At breakfast Harry gave Louis the choice of them either packing up and hiking to the lake he really wanted Louis to see, or to just spend the day and the next night around this campsite.

 

“How far is the lake?”

 

“About four hours from here. The actual distance to the lake from here is shorter than it was from Alice’s to here, but the terrain is so much more difficult, it takes longer. Can’t walk fast at all.” Harry explained conversationally, sipping on his tea from a tin cup.

 

“Can we swim in the lake?” Louis wondered, feeling he could definitely go for a swim if this day turned out to be as warm as the last.

 

“I think it might be okay to swim now. Sometimes the algae growth is too thick for that.” Harry thought.

 

“Would we have to walk for- like seven hours, when we head back tomorrow then?” Louis quickly did the math in his head. “Or do we stop here again?”

 

“Are you up for a seven hour hike?” Harry smiled at him teasingly. “I used to do that route in one go all the time, but I saw how much you struggled yesterday.” He lifted up his hand and nonchalantly picked on his nails for show.

 

Louis huffed out a laugh, but before he had the chance to come up with any sort of defense for himself, Harry continued.

 

“I was actually thinking we’d keep on walking to the next town on Sunday or Monday, and have Alice pick us up from there. Or we could come back here for another night. Or walk for seven hours.”

 

“To be honest, I’d like to know if I could walk for seven hours.” Louis contemplated. Surprisingly, the thought of walking in these woods for an entire day didn’t deter him at all.

 

After all, these were the woods that Harry drew his magic from, so to speak.

 

“Either way, first we need to replace the firewood and fix this place up.” Harry’s joyful voice and the clattering of the cup that was accidentally knocked over when he stood up, drew Louis back from his thoughts.

 

Alright. Restocking firewood.

 

* * *

 

“Some of the old ladies in town used to say mean things to me and Alice about Mum lying to them or manipulating them.” Harry said, while staring solemnly into the fire. He had a stick in hand, ready to poke at the logs on the campfire when need be. 

 

“Like it made them feel better when they could be sure we felt bad about how our mother behaved.”

 

Louis nodded in understanding. He was sitting on the ground on a seat pad, clad in only a pair of damp shorts, feet flat on the ground, knees drawn up and arms resting on them.

 

“Yeah, that seems common. A few people back in the day used to shame me for Joseph being a violent shit,” he replied dryly, still not letting go of the resentment. 

 

“There was this one woman, who was particularly adamant about always bringing up the fact that Joseph had gotten into a fist fight with her husband years earlier. Always making sure that everyone knew what my husband had done to hers.”

 

“Sounds like a dick.” Harry said next to him, also sparsely clad in wet boxers.

 

“She was the mother of one of the other kids in Jon’s baby-playgroup.” Louis couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at Harry calling the woman a dick. 

 

“But yeah, she was a dick,” he agreed.

 

In the end, they had decided to leave for the lake after lunch that day. They would stay there for a night or two, and then keep walking until they reached civilisation again and could be picked up by Harry’s sister.   

 

They’d spent the morning walking around the camp area, gathering firewood to store in a box underneath the wind shelter.

 

When Harry had built the shelter, he had also made two wooden boxes that fit under it. One he kept filled with firewood, enough for approximately two campfires, and one he used to keep in the corner inside the shelter and store things he needed. Like a sleeping bag, some utilities and a change of clothes. 

 

Since he had spent so much time there, it was better to keep the things there instead of logging them back and forth. The second box still contained an old kettle, a tin cup and a plate, a dull axe and some random knick-knacks.   

 

“It was weird how people in town knew how my mother was, but still they seemed to believe everything she said.” Harry kept revealing things about his past, as he’d done intermittently throughout the day. Some things Louis had already heard, others were new to him.

 

“Yeah, I hate people.” Louis sighed sympathetically.

 

Harry snorted. “You don’t even know the people I’m talking about.”  

 

He leaned into Louis, wet shoulder against wet shoulder, and shoved him playfully.

 

A couple of hours earlier they had arrived at the lake. There was no designated campsite, like at the clearing with the wind shelter, so Harry had asked Louis to pick a spot for the tent while he found them something to build a fire with.

 

This place obviously was visited by people more frequently than the last. There were remains of several campfires in different places on the ground. Some close to the water, some further away. It seemed that everyone had their own idea of where the perfect spot was.

 

The woods from where they came, ended in just a bunch of trees, spread scarcely across the left side of the lakefront area. The moss on the forest ground had long ago turned into grass that almost looked kept.

 

To the right were large fields of tall grass that crossed over to equally large fields of reeds. Somewhere amongst that there supposedly was an overgrown old dirt road, which apparently lead all the way around to the other side of the lake, where there were a few cottages, small docks for motor or row boats and a large sandy beach.

 

In between the trees and the reeds, there was a strip of coarse-grained sand closest to the water. It quickly turned to packed dirt and then grass, further away from the lake.

Louis had picked a spot among a few trees. It felt safe to have the tent quite far from the water, shadowed by a few trees.

 

Harry had made a fireplace and lit a fire at an appropriate distance, while Louis set up the tent - mostly without asking for help. He was quite proud of that.

 

And now they were sitting by the campfire after a quick refreshing dip in the lake, letting the flames and the remaining warmth of the setting sun dry them off, while they waited for their roasted bananas to be done.  

 

“There were kids in school that used to negate everything I said with the fact that their parents had said that I was a compulsive liar. Couldn’t be trusted.” Harry’s voice had once again turned serious.

 

He shifted and moved around his seat pad and Louis’ legs, so he could sit between them and lean his back against.

 

Louis was instantly onboard with the new seating arrangement and leaned in to press his nose against the sensitive spot below Harry’s ear and whispering how sorry he was, while tightening his arm around his chest. 

 

He enjoyed these moments where Harry undoubtedly showed that he needed Louis to take care of him. 

 

For Louis it was a sign that they were both capable of switching roles when needed. It was important for him to know that he was capable of doing the comforting and not only receiving it. And he just liked to take care of the people close to him.

 

“It was all to save herself. She made a habit out of it even.” Harry had made himself small in Louis embrace when he spoke again. 

 

“Every time we met someone new, there would be a  _ ‘we’ve had difficulties with Harry here, and his habit of lying, haven’t we Harry?’ _ And if she couldn’t say that to anyone in a while, she’d remind the ones who already perceived me as a compulsive liar, by saying that she’d caught me lying again.”

 

Louis heart ached at the thought of young Harry being accused of lying and making things up. He drew him closer, one arm over Harry’s bare chest and the other around his stomach.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Louis murmured into his hair. His back was starting to ache and he wished he’d have something to lean against. But now was not the time to start changing seats.

 

“You know the farmer that helped me with material?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“He said one time that he’d heard my mother talking about a lying son, but me being out in the woods by myself so often, made him wonder how much truth there was to that.”

 

Louis hummed in response, not knowing what else to say.

 

“I think that hearing that was what made it all bearable, you know?”

 

Louis thought he knew. “Like, one person believing in you was enough.”  

 

“Yeah. I was still angry and sad about the whole thing a lot, but at least I wasn’t completely alone anymore.”

 

Louis kept Harry close to him, holding him tight and placing small kisses on the spots he could reach, as Harry continued to mention random memories from his childhood and his times in these woods.

 

They did that until the bananas were ready to eat and they realised that it was already getting dark.

 

Then they relocated to inside the tent, where they laid down, each in their own sleeping bag. They laid facing each other as they exchanged tender touches, solemn smiles and supportive words long into the night.

 

Louis felt that in a way, they were just getting to know each other. Maybe it was the fact that Harry was the one opening up and showing himself very vulnerable. Maybe it was that they were in nature and their energies were heightened, Harry had said.

 

And perhaps they were burning brighter, both of them. Allowing the other to become a part of themselves in a different way than was possible before, connecting deeper than when they were at home.

 

* * *

 

Another morning of waking up alone in a tent at dawn had Louis a bit disgruntled. But this time he could hear Harry cluttering about outside. He turned to lay on his back and tried to kick away the too hot sleeping bag.

 

“Harry!” he yelled as loudly as his gravelly morning voice would allow.

 

The noises outside quieted and seconds later there was a sound of a zipper being opened.

 

“Lou? You awake?” Harry whispered and crawled inside.

 

“Why are you up? Come be with me. Sleep.” Louis whined and snaked his arms around Harry when he was close enough.

 

“Nah, it’s a beautiful day, Lou.” Harry snickered. “You should come up. Come have a morning swim with me.”

 

Louis hummed into the few kisses he received. 

 

“Could we- umm, maybe- go skinny dipping?” He asked playfully when Harry pressed himself down on Louis’ morning boner.

 

“I’d love to.” Harry’s eyes darkened as he agreed. “Let me just make sure that the fire is properly going,” he said and scrambled out of the tent a lot faster than he came in.

 

Louis decided to strip out of his boxers and t-shirt right then and there.

 

He crawled out of the tent, with the sleeping bag awkwardly wrapped around him like a towel, and started walking towards the water.

 

The sun was higher than he’d thought, but the water would probably still be a lot colder than it was the day before. His boner would definitely disappear as soon as he dipped his feet in the lake.

 

He could hear Harry laughing behind him, then the man and his way too long legs walked briskly past him, stark naked and as beautiful as ever.

 

“Oi! Where’d your clothes go?” Louis shouted after him, because no one could undress that fast.

 

Harry just giggled and didn’t slow down until the water reached him to the thighs.

 

“Is it cold?” Louis wanted to know. He tightened the grip on the sleeping bag and drew it  closer around him.

 

“Is it okay to be naked here, you think?” Even though it was Louis’ idea to skinny dip, he felt hesitant.

 

“It’s completely natural to be naked,” was Harry’s answer, just before he burst into laughter. 

 

Clearly he’d come up with some sort of pun.

 

“You can-” He tried to say what was so funny, but another round of giggles prevented that. 

 

Louis waited.

 

“You can be natural in nature, Lou.” Harry was red and breathless by the time he got the joke out.

 

“Dork.” Louis mumbled, shaking his head amusedly. 

 

Once he let the sleeping bag fall to the ground, Harry’s giggles quieted.

 

Hopefully they wouldn’t be arrested for indecency, Louis thought as he carefully made his way into the chilly water and his boyfriends hot embrace.     

 

* * *

 

It was early afternoon on Monday, and Louis was kind of sad to be leaving these woods.

 

For hours now, he’d been walking in the slight drizzle of the summer rain. His feet were wet, and Harry’s instructions on where to go were starting to get annoying. Sometimes they were verbal instructions of going left or taking the other way around the massive rock. Other times it was a gentle hand coming from behind him, steering him the right way.   

 

Louis couldn’t help it, if he sometimes didn’t hear what Harry had said. His mind kept playing yesterday’s events on a loop, and he couldn’t help but become distracted.

 

Within the first half hour of them leaving the lake, Harry had to make the switch and walk behind Louis because he kept falling behind.

 

He probably wore a stupid smile on his face the entire morning. He had noticed Harry looking at him amusedly every now and then.

 

Louis’ mind was filled with flashes of wide green eyes, their brightness enhanced by the morning sun, intensely looking at him with so much desire and adoration, as their bodies were rocking against each other on the grass by the lake.

 

The sounds of soft gasps rolling over the most perfect pink lips had played like a record in Louis’ ears hundreds of times since that moment.

 

The weight of Harry’s hard length fitting perfectly in his hand, as the man shivered above him, all while letting Louis see into his soul could still be felt physically.

 

Etched into Louis’ memory was the glow of Harry’s skin when he finally had to close his eyes as the waves of orgasm hit him.   

 

There had been no penetration, it was still the same hand jobs, the same rolling of hips against each other as before. But this time they had made love. Out in the open, in nature. Where Harry belonged, like an elven king of some sort. Ethereal, was what he’d been. And he had shown Louis all that. He’d let Louis see.

 

He’d made the chant of  _ I love you  _ inside Louis more loud and frequent than before. More persistent.

 

Louis had to stop walking and say something. He had to turn his stupid smile - that couldn’t for the life of him be wiped off his face - towards Harry and say something.

 

So he did. He stopped and he turned. And he let the energies of all the I love you’s sprout off of him and land in their surroundings.

 

As for the words that came out, they were different.

 

“Thank you, for making me feel wanted and valuable.” He said with raindrops rolling down his forehead and dripping off his eyebrows as he looked up at Harry.

 

“Of course, baby.” The response was delivered with a large smile, albeit made wet by the rain.

 

In a way, they had both done some significant healing here this past weekend. By themselves and as a couple.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter. :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	21. The London Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. :( I've had a shitty day. I'm stressed out and can't really get anything done.   
> Drove my friend to radiation treatment this morning - that was a harsh reality check.   
> I have a nasty cold and I'm all alone, feeling lonely and feeling sorry for myself.   
> Then I fucked up my chapters, so I've been trying to fix that for the past three hours. But here's the chapter now. It might still be fucked up, who knows. 
> 
> Minor **trigger warning** for talk about manipulative behaviour. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> One - Mary J Blidge, U2  
> Come As You Are - Nirvana  
> Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen  
> The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w

 

The rhythmic movements of the train carriage kept Louis in a state of half asleep/half awake for most of the trip. Too tired to move or talk, but still awake enough to have his thoughts run around like curious little kittens whose mother just let them out to explore for the first time.

 

He was in the aisle seat, head leaned back and socked feet on Harry’s lap on the opposite seat. The man’s warm hands were absentmindedly rubbing them lightly. That, combined with the swooshing and clicking of the train’s wheels against the rails was like the best of lullabies.

 

Louis spent a good amount of time reminiscing about the last time he’d been riding the train, back when he had so fearlessly hopped on one to go meet Harry for the first time. Who knew he’d be falling in love with the man nine or so months later. (Well, Harry had apparently known they were meant for each other.)

 

The train and the departure times were the same then as now, but that was the only resemblance between the two trips. 

 

Louis had thought that he was calm and collected back then. He’d felt so brave, doing things like normal people did. That was nothing compared to the serenity Louis felt now.

 

He had healed and grown so much during these past few months. There were clear and  noticeable improvements in the anxiety and social phobia departments. Nowadays, Louis had an inner calm that allowed him to feel more free. He wasn’t scared of the anxiety, nor was he worried about recurring depression anymore. Rather, he viewed them as opportunities to learn what he needed to heal next. He had evolved like a pokemon.

 

This time he wasn’t alone on the train either. That helped a lot with his inner calm as well.

 

To his left, Jonathan’s heavy breathing suggested that he was asleep. The buzzing of too loud music could be heard from his headphones. Louis was sure that if he was to open his eyes, he’d find his son leaning against the window, with the hood of his sweater drawn over his head and covering most of his face.    

Rose was sitting next to Harry, talking quietly to him. Because of his half-asleep haze, Louis hadn’t been paying much attention to the sounds in the train carriage until now. 

 

People were murmuring to each other, some conversations louder than others. (Why was there always, in each and every situation with more than two people in the same space, one person that felt the need to speak loud enough to drown out the rest of the world?)

 

Louis’ focus was drawn to his daughters voice like a magnet. He knew that tone. That was the way Rose sounded when she thought she’d done something wrong. 

 

He opened his eyes and found his daughter sitting sideways in her seat, facing Harry, knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting on them. A burgundy beanie was covering her hair, because apparently  _ ‘It looks like shit, Dad!’ _ . 

 

“And since you’re a counsellor, or whatever, maybe you can give me answers?” Rose asked with a timid voice, eyes flickering between Harry’s face and the window on the other side of the train cart. 

 

Some clinking and rustling of a zipper could be heard a few seats further down, and then the faint smell of coffee spread to Louis’ nostrils. Why hadn’t they thought to bring a thermos with them? Could’ve had some tea and maybe biscuits. 

 

Louis tried to remember if there was a bistro carriage on this train.

 

“Of course, Rosie. Anything, anytime. That goes for both you and your brother, I hope you know that.” Harry shifted to turn more towards her, making sure that it was abundantly clear that his entire attention was on her.

 

Louis’ chest felt tight with warm happiness. His daughter trusted his boyfriend enough to ask for help. Not that he had doubted it before, but it was nice to  _ know _ that this was the case. Maybe he had finally made some right choices for his family.

 

Harry laid his hand, palm up, on the armrest between his and Rose’s seats, signalling that if needed, it was perfectly fine for her to hold his hand. 

 

It could be a bit tricky with Rose, knowing how to meet her needs. Sometimes she wanted to be cuddled and comforted, while other times any approach to be physically near her caused a series of massive explosions. Treading a mine field was an excellent metaphor for it.   

 

Harry made a smart move by letting Rose choose if she wanted physical comfort in this moment.

 

“Okay. You’ve probably noticed how Jon and I fight a lot.” Rose started after a deep breath. “Or Dad might have told you.” 

 

Harry nodded. She tentatively placed her right hand on Harry’s palm, the other one was still hugging her shins. Harry immediately curled his fingers around her hand, and she visibly relaxed.

 

It seemed that holding hands gave her courage. Her voice was more sure and a bit louder when she continued. 

 

“I’ve always thought that we fought because of how Jon is. I’ve always been so angry with him.”

 

“Why were you angry with him?”

 

“Because he’s bloody annoying,” Rose laughed humorlessly for a second and then went back to being strangely serious.

 

“I don’t know,” she continued, furrowing her brow, like she was searching for the reason in the emptiness she was staring at. “Maybe I’ve felt that he was ruining things for me? And putting me down, treating me like a child?”

 

Louis almost snorted loudly when his mind retorted that she  _ is _ a child. He opted to close his eyes again, not to give away that he was, in fact, listening in on a private conversation.

 

In his defense, he was her dad, so surely some amount of surveillance was necessary at all times.

 

That was another difficult aspect of raising his kids that Louis struggled with. The age difference between the both of them was four years. Rose had always been very mature for her age, often more interested in hanging out with adults than friends her own age. It was easy to forget that she was as young as she was. And that she was four years younger than her brother.

 

She wanted to be treated equally to Jonathan, while it was important to Jonathan that there was a difference, that the rules that applied to him when he was the same age as Rose would continue to apply to her until she was older.

 

While Louis certainly understood his son’s need for these kind of rules, he wasn’t really much for creating a home based on rules and regulations. He’d had enough of that kind of authoritarian regime during the years with Joseph.   

 

So Louis had done the best he could, going for some sort of middle ground and trying not to hurt either of his kids more than he was already guilty of. 

 

He thought he’d done a good job of not differentiating between the two, while still having a bunch of age related restrictions for Rose - to which the girl usually started some furious rant about discrimination. Again, goddamnit for kids educating themselves. 

 

Louis knew that for a long time, being older was the only sense of self-worth Jonathan had. It was his only ‘status’, so to speak. If nothing else, he wanted to at least be the admired big brother, someone Rose looked up to and asked for help from. He wanted to feel needed. Louis knew - he felt the same way.

 

“I know, that’s why I’m so confused now.” Rose huffed and Louis realised he’d been too lost in his own thoughts to have heard Harry’s response. 

 

“Because when we were on vacation with Papa, I started noticing things,” she explained.

 

“What kind of things?” Harry wondered.

 

“That Papa is always favouring one of us.” Rose revealed, a bit hesitant. She was quiet long enough for Louis to once more open his eyes to see what was going on.

 

Harry was holding Rose’s hand in both of his and patiently waiting for her to continue. 

 

“Most of the time I’m his favourite. Like- I can get away with things easily and I have more privileges than Jon.” She smiled guiltily, seemingly a little ashamed of herself. 

 

That would actually explain a lot, Louis thought as the realisation made him sit up straight. Both of them turned to look at Louis and Rose smiled as she whispered a small  _ ‘Hi Dad’ _ to him.  

 

Louis nodded in both greeting and as a sign for her to continue. 

 

Rose turned back to Harry. “When we were away, I noticed that it has changed. Now Jon is Papa’s favourite. And it’s so unfair.” 

 

Louis was about to interject with a  _ ‘Wild Rose Tomlinson, I raised you better than that’ _ -rant when she glanced at him. 

 

“ _ No _ , I don’t mean it like that,” she stated, and Louis might be a bit predictable at times. 

 

“Jon deserves to be prioritised too - I have been for a long time - what I mean is, that it’s unfair of Papa to play favourites. You never do.” She clarified, gesturing towards Louis with her free hand.

 

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Even though you’ve yelled at me several times about discriminating against you?” Louis asked jokingly. His daughter just amusedly rolled her eyes and pointedly turned to face Harry again.

 

“Anyway- I’m not mad at Jon anymore. We haven’t fought in weeks - it was just the few days after we got home from vacation and then nothing. Jon isn’t even mean to me anymore. He’s actually very nice and caring.” 

 

Huh. Louis thought back on the last few weeks and found her to be right. 

 

There’d been a surprising lack of fighting in the house. Sure, the two first days after they came home had been filled with yelling and name calling and slamming doors, but that was what usually happened when the kids came home from holidays with Joseph. 

 

“That’s great Rosie, healing is beautiful,” Harry praised. “Has your anger shifted to your Papa, then?” he asked.

 

“Hell yeah, I’m angry with him!” Rose snarled, face scrunching up in annoyance. “He’s an arse!”

 

“Rose!” Louis chastised, but that was mostly for show. Secretly he took great pleasure in his kids showing animosity towards their other parent. 

 

He’d always known that the day would come when the kids chose to distance themselves from their abusive father. And he would have no one to blame, but himself and his Hitler-like methods.

 

“Sorry Dad, but he is, that’s no way to treat your children.” She argued, anger flashing in her eyes as they briefly bored into Louis’. 

 

“It’s not,” he agreed calmly, “But I don’t want you to call your father names.  _ You _ do  _ not _ need to sink that low.”

 

“Sorry,” Rose’s demeanor changed and she folded in on herself a little. “That’s sort of my problem. I feel it’s unfair and low of me to blame Papa for us fighting.” She confessed, looking down on her hand still in Harry’s large ones. “Isn’t it?”

 

“Oh, sweetie,” Harry murmured empathetically and squeezed her hand again, “Not at all. It’s actually a really predictable and healthy reaction.” 

 

“Really?” Rose perked up, eyes wide and hopeful. 

 

“Really.” Harry reassured knowingly. 

 

“Whether you’ve consciously acknowledged your Papa’s favoritism or not, you have been aware of it. And because of that, your subconscious has perceived Jon as a threat to your position as the favourite. You needed to defend and shield yourself from that threat, hence the anger towards your brother. Anger can sometimes be a defense mechanism.” Harry explained. 

 

Louis was so impressed, never ceasing to be amazed by Harry’s knowledge and ability to instill tranquility and hope into others.  

 

“When you’d resolved the issue at hand, your defense wasn’t needed anymore. Instead of all your focus going to shielding and defending, you allowed yourself to aim your hurt and anger for being treated unfairly at the rightful recipient of those emotions.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds alright.” Rose nodded. “How does that explain the change in Jon’s behaviour though?”

 

Harry glanced at Louis briefly before shifting his attention back to Rose. She drew back her hand and Harry squeezed her shoulder with a smile.

 

“He was probably feeling your perception of him as the enemy. And subconsciously, he’s been defending himself against the threat that you were to him. When you laid down your weapons - he had no need for his.” Harry told her.

 

“Oh…” Rose raised her eyebrows and nodded in quiet affirmation of understanding.

 

“I think your anger also prevented you from noticing all the nice things that Jon continuously does. I bet if you ask your Dad, he’ll tell you that your brother usually is a very nice and caring person. Does that make sense?” Harry said and smiled warmly.

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Rose acknowledged. “I’ve been blocking myself from seeing things that were there all along.”

 

And it made sense, didn’t it? The subconscious aspect of our existence needed to be taken into account, since we’re so largely affected by it. In fact, it turned out that Harry would argue that most of every human’s actions and reactions are controlled by their subconscious.  

“That’s why they say that the only way to change the world is to change yourself. You never know how much positive change you can cause in the people around you, just by healing your own wounds and changing yourself for the better.” Harry concluded.

 

Louis was so, so impressed. “How do you know all this?” 

 

“The universe told me,“ Harry said and winked at him.

 

Louis ignored him and instead let his daughter know how very, very proud of her he was.

 

* * *

 

Louis and Harry had decided (Yes, they made decisions together nowadays. Louis was very pleased.) to take the kids to London for a long weekend and some before-school-shopping, since Louis had landed a writing job that would last a few months and give him a bit extra to spend on the kids.

 

Harry had insisted that he paid all their travel expenses and that they stayed at Zayn’s flat for the weekend rather than in a hotel.

 

So now they were all standing in Zayn’s hallway, suitcases and backpacks scattered at their feet, as Zayn gave them the welcome speech. 

 

“Ah, the beautiful family of my very best friend,” Zayn announced theatrically, holding up his arms wide. “Welcome, welcome.” 

 

Louis blushed at the bold statement and nervously snuck a glance at Harry, to gauge his reaction to them being called  _ his _ family. Harry was nothing but wide smiles and twinkly eyes.

 

“Come in! Come, make yourselves at home,” Zayn’s boisterous voice continued, as he placed one hand on his stomach and the other behind his back and bowed deep.

 

He was formally dressed in black slim fit dress pants and a fitted black blazer with some sort of swirly pattern.

 

“Cut it out, you weirdo.” Harry laughed and playfully smacked Zayn on the head.

 

The kids were certainly amused by the performance and giggled along with Harry.

 

“Why are you dressed like that anyway?” Harry inquired, walking further into the flat without even taking his shoes off, the place seeming familiar to him.

 

“I’m just trying on my new suit.” Zayn informed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you like it?”

 

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned to look up and down at Zayn’s outfit. Then he scrunched his nose. “Nah…It looks too fancy.”

 

“Oh, fuck off. I’ve seen all your blouses and sheer little pieces of so called clothing.” Zayn glared at him for a moment before turning to the kids and continuing in a playfully mocking tone. 

 

“Youngsters, you’ve probably seen on multiple occasions that Harry here, likes to wear women’s clothing. He’s got tons of them.”

 

_ Big mistake _ , Louis thought as he felt the tension in both kids as they took in Zayn’s statement. Both of them were sensitive to these kind of things. Jonathan drew in a deep breath and widened his stance. A second later Rose lifted her chin and crossed her arms on her chest.

 

“Do you- erm- think that there’s something  _ wrong _ with people dressing as they see fit?” Jonathan questioned slowly, voice cold and eyes sharp.

 

Louis was so proud.

 

“Yeah, are you trans _ phobic? _ ” Rose piped up and narrowed her eyes at Zayn, whose playful smile had disappeared and was replaced by a mouth hanging open in slight shock.  

 

Louis couldn’t help but allow the smile that was twitching the corners of his mouth.

 

“N-no, no, I’m not transphobic,” Zayn stuttered eventually, “I was just giving Harry a hard time, making a little fun of his choice in clothing, that’s all.”

 

Jonathan muttered something under his breath, but let it go and walked past Zayn towards Harry.  

 

Rose, who had always been a bit more fiery wasn’t as willing to drop it. “He shouldn’t have to take any kind of shit for any of his choices.” She retorted. “What kind of friend are you?”

 

“I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t mean any harm.” Zayn’s apology was sincere.

 

“Yeah, it’s not me you should apologise to,” she snorted and made her way to Harry too.

 

“Oh, Zaynie, meet the best and most wonderful teenagers I’ve ever had the privilege to know.” Harry snickered as Jonathan dutifully informed everyone that Rose technically wasn’t a teenager until October.

 

“This lad here is Jonathan Tomlinson,” Harry curled his arm around Jonathan’s shoulders and drew him to his side, and Louis just noticed that they were almost the same height. “Son of the beautiful Louis Tomlinson, whom you’ve already met.”

 

He then let go of Jonathan and went to stand behind Rose, with both of his hands on her shoulders. “And this little lady is Rose Tomlinson, daughter of the aforementioned, beautiful Louis Tomlinson.”

  
  


The kids chuckled at Harry’s theatrics and Louis found this visit quite entertaining so far.  

 

“Kids,” Harry continued introductions. “This is Zayn, my oldest and best idiot-”

 

Jonathan and Rose burst into laughter as Zayn gasped at the given title. “Friend is the word you’re looking for,” he suggested in mock offense.

 

“Yeah, yeah, my oldest and best idiot  _ friend, _ ” Harry corrected as he gave Zayn a friendly hug. “He’s not transphobic - or any kind of phobic - otherwise I wouldn’t be friends with him,” Harry explained.

 

“Sometimes he just forgets that his jokes can be hurtful to others. He’s well into his thirties and doesn’t understand that him not intending to be mean, doesn’t mean he’s not being mean.” He finished and began promptly to giggle about his punny wordplay.

 

Oh god, Louis was in love with a dork.

 

“Alright, enough of this,” Zayn smiled and ushered them all further into the flat, “Everyone to the kitchen, I’ve prepared sandwiches and fruit.”

 

* * *

 

Zayn had a really big flat with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a gigantic kitchen and huge living areas. Louis wasn’t jealous at all. Cleaning must be a bitch. 

 

During the delicious brunch, Zayn had talked a lot about how he usually rented out a room or two - Harry had actually lived here twice - but during this past summer no one had really lived here for longer than a couple of weeks. 

 

Louis wanted them to sleep in Harry’s old bedroom, to get a feel of what it would have been like to be with Harry back then. Apparently, Harry’s room was never rented to anyone else, but stayed a guest room when he wasn’t living here. 

 

Since no roommates existed right now, the kids opted to take a room each.   

 

Louis had his small suitcase on the foot of the bed and he was rifling through it after more comfy clothes, when something on the nightstand caught his eye.

  
He abandoned the suitcase and curiously approached the nightstand, where a pair of bright green on-ear headphones were lying next to an antique bedside lamp. Bright green headphones with blue and green beads decorating the cord that was hanging down on the floor.

 

Confusion clogged his brain as he tried to make sense of this. He knew these headphones. He knew them, because about a year ago he’d contributed to the crafting that was to put the beads on the cord. Every seventh bead green among all the blues.

 

What the fuck?

 

Louis stomped out of the neatly arranged room with the headphones clutched in his hand, insistent on demanding answers.  _ What. The. Fuck. _

 

“What the fuck is this?” Louis went up to Zayn, crowding his space and waving the headphones in his face. Zayn looked startled and Harry, still seated by the kitchen table, looked up from his phone. 

 

“Is Niall  _ here _ ?” He asked, looking like a lunatic with his wild, unblinking eyes and squeaky voice.

 

“No, Niall’s not here.” Zayn answered slowly, backing a few steps away from Louis.

 

“But these are Niall’s,” Louis wielded the headphones in front of Zayn’s face again as proof. “I know these are Niall’s, so don’t lie to me.”

 

“He was here last weekend.”

 

“Niall was  _ here _ last weekend?” Louis squaked, unbelieving.

 

“Yeah, he visited last weekend. We went to the theatre and looked at some of the sights and things.”

 

“He visited?” 

 

“Yeah,” Zayn confirmed with a nod, “We’ve met up a few times, but mostly we’ve been texting, keeping in contact.” 

 

Fucking hell. 

 

Louis couldn’t comprehend this. Niall hadn’t said anything about visiting Zayn. Or even keeping in touch with him since the lads night back in May. Louis was confused and felt a bit betrayed. 

 

“In fact,” Zayn continued, “I’m on my way to visit him this weekend, so I’ll be out of your hair and you can have my flat all to yourselves.”

 

_ What? _

 

“What?” Louis voiced his confusion with apparently the best question he could come up with.

 

But then something else struck him and rendered that entirely unimportant.

 

“What are your intentions with my Niall?” Louis demanded as he shakily pointed the headphones accusingly at Zayn. 

 

He could hear Harry snickering somewhere in the background, but he didn’t have time to pay any attention to that.

 

Zayn raised both of his hands in surrender. “Relax, Louis, I’m not going to hurt him. I know what you’re worried about.”

 

“You know?” Louis was dumbfounded.

 

“I know. Niall has told me.”

 

“He told you?” Louis parroted. He really needed to learn how to better deal with unforeseen situations. “Niall doesn’t tell people.”  

 

“Well, he told me. And I’m okay with it. In fact, I’m not in any hurry about anything. I just- ” Zayn sighed, “I just want to spend time with him. In any shape is fine with me.”

 

Louis stared at Zayn for a long time. He was being sincere, Louis could tell. 

 

Harry embraced him from behind, pressed himself close with a slight chuckle, kissing the back or Louis’ head. “I love how protective you are of the ones you care about.” 

 

* * *

 

Louis had thought that their days spent in the city would be divided into one day shopping and one day sightseeing, maybe visiting a museum or two. 

 

He really wanted to see some museums.

 

However, he got turned down as the kids refused to do anything that didn’t include acquiring things while spending money. When Louis bitterly accused them of succumbing to consumerism, they laughed and cooed at him, defining him as silly. 

 

Harry had diplomatically suggested that maybe it was better to just go to the shops again. Nobody wanted to drag along two angry kids to places they didn’t want to go. Perhaps they could choose shops that were close to some of the places Louis wanted to see.

 

Fine. Louis didn’t particularly feel like fighting the entire day.

 

So here they were, day two of shopping. Yesterday they’d gotten most of the necessities. New clothes, shoes and school things for the kids. Harry had bought a fancy notebook for Louis and - despite Louis’ protests - paid for a lot of things for the kids, claiming he had no one else to spend his money on.

 

Today was supposed to be about fun shopping instead of necessary shopping. 

 

Rose was in her element, thoroughly enjoying herself in the busy city, looking at the people rushing through the streets and admiring things in the shop windows.

 

“I’m going to move here one day.” She exclaimed happily, eyes twinkling with joy and excitement.

 

Louis groaned internally and was silently thankful that it would be at least five years before she’d be allowed to move anywhere. Perhaps he’d gotten his worries and phobias under control by then.

 

Come to think of it, Louis hadn’t had one single instance of anything resembling anxiety, or even discomfort, during this entire trip. Huh. Very interesting, he’d have to analyse that later. 

 

Jonathan had looked up a couple of stores on the internet he wanted to visit. 

 

They’d just left one alternative clothing store, where Jonathan spent almost two hours meticulously looking through the racks and shelves, and trying out far more pieces of clothing than Louis had ever seen him do.

 

The boy had finally decided on spending most of his savings on a strap shirt, a pair of punk/gothic looking slim jeans with zippers and chains everywhere, as well as a few t-shirts, some accessories with pentagrams on them and black nail polish.

 

Harry was very excited about the nail polish and Jonathan had promised he could borrow it if he wanted.

 

“Is it far? Are we there yet?” Louis whined excessively to Jonathan, who walked a few steps ahead of him. Harry and Rose laughed behind them, so Louis turned his head and narrowed his eyes at them.

 

Jonathan looked up from his phone, where the navigation app was guiding them to some record store the boy wanted to see. “Stop whining, or I swear to god- it’s just around the corner,” the boy scolded and adjusted the strap of his bag.

 

Then he let go of his humorless expression and smiled wide and bright. “I can’t believe I got this bag for free,” he exclaimed.

 

“Well, you spent an awful lot of money in there, a free bag was their way of thanking you.”

 

Apparently the store had a policy that stated that every customer with a total of more than £150 would get a canvas messenger bag to carry their purchases in.    

 

Suddenly Jonathan’s phone buzzed and he stopped abruptly, looking around.

 

“We’re here,” he announced and nodded towards the door on his left.

 

When they stepped inside, it became clear that the record store wasn’t just a store with copious amounts of used records, but a combined coffee house and record store.

 

The shop was empty of customers and the young woman sitting behind the counter perked up and greeted them warmly.

 

The seating area consisted of a few old wooden tables and mismatched chairs in bright colours. Part of the wall and the areas in front of the windows were lined with wooden benches, filled with colourful pillows and blankets. Psychedelic tapestries were hanging on the wall behind the counter, as well as in every corner of the shop.

 

The record section was at the back of the shop. The area was crowded with bins and racks, filled with vinyls and CD’s. The walls and ceiling were covered in old band merch and posters of music legends like Fleetwood Mac, Bob Marley, Janis Joplin, Freddie Mercury and Nirvana.       

 

The shop had a very retro atmosphere to it, very 70’s. Louis loved it and Harry looked like he wanted to squeal with delight.

 

Jonathan and Rose were already rushing to look at the records, over the moon at getting the opportunity to browse through so many of them.

 

“Don’t you want to order something to eat first?” Louis yelled after his kids.

 

“Later, Dad!” Came Jonathan’s hurried answer.

 

Alright then. Louis and Harry both ordered grilled cheese sandwiches and went to sit by a table with teal and pink chairs around it.

 

“How are you holding up, baby? Any discomfort?” Harry asked, looking a little concerned as he reached over the table to brush a strand of hair away from Louis’ face.

 

“Surprisingly, no. I feel just fine. No anxiety, no discomfort.” Louis answered honestly, cradling Harry’s palm against his cheek. “I was a bit bored in the alternative store, but now I’m fine.”

 

“That’s good. I’ve had fun today.” Harry smiled and leaned back in his chair. Then his attention was drawn to the corner of the table. “Is that a price tag?” he asked, picking on the small label taped to the table.

 

“Yeah, looks like it.” Louis confirmed, after leaning over the table to see. “And look, the chairs have price tags too.”

 

So did the purple and yellow placemats and the matching flower pot in the middle of the table. It all looked very easter-eggy.

 

“Most everything in this shop is for sale,” The young woman placed two mismatched plates on the table in front of them both.

 

“Really?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

 

“Yeah. The only things we don’t sell are the ones attached to the walls and ceiling, and most of the things behind the counter. Other than that, everything is for sale.”

 

“Wow.” Louis was surprised too. He’d never encountered something like that.

 

The lady smiled and hummed. 

 

“Everything is second hand, too. We buy old things and we repair them, paint them in a fun colour and put them out here in the shop.” She explained. “There’s nothing here that has been bought factory new. Save the environment and what not.”

 

“That’s so impressive.” Harry exclaimed. “And then people can sit here and try the furniture out, see if they like them- wow.”

 

“Exactly.” The sales lady smiled wider. “Some people reserve a chair or two, then they come here several times to eat and sit in the chairs, move them around to different tables to see what fits the best. It’s quite fun to watch sometimes.”

 

“That’s a very interesting concept.” Louis agreed before shifting his attention to his plate.

 

To his surprise he found the plate overflowing with vegetables and two grilled sandwiches.

 

“Wow, this is a lot food. Is this a regular portion?” He questioned, looking at Harry’s plate to find just as much on there.

  
  


“I might have made a bit extra-” The woman smiled bashfully. “You’re such a beautiful family. Let me know if the kiddos want fresh plates for their sandwiches.” She said and hurried away, back to her chair behind the counter.

 

* * *

 

The sandwiches were long gone, Harry having called the kids to eat the extra ones and then had them to go by the counter to thank the woman for their free food. 

 

Louis had made three trips to the same, to buy pastries and beverages and made sure to show his appreciation for her kindness.

 

Jonathan appeared by their table, clutching a vinyl record in his hands.

 

“Dad? Can I have some money for this? I’m like a twenty short.”

 

Louis took the record and examined it briefly. “This is very expensive for a used record, Jon. You don’t even have a record player, how are you going to listen to it?”

 

“It’s normal price for a vinyl, Dad, used or not used.” Jonathan pointed out. “And I don’t care, I’ll save up for a record player later.” His voice turned whiny as he continued listing his reasons for buying the album. “This is a really rare album, who knows if I’ll ever find one again.”  

 

Harry cleared his throat. “What if I pay for it?” He pointedly avoided Louis’ eyes and turned completely towards Jonathan. “In fact, let’s say I’ll give you both fifty quid to shop for in this store. Go tell your sister.”

 

“Really?” Jonathan was stunned. After Harry confirmed that he would buy them records, he leaned down to thank him with a tight hug.

 

“No, Harry, that’s too much-” Louis started protesting, disapproval visible in his features.

 

“Hush, Lou,” Harry smiled at him fondly. “I’ll do what I want with my money, and if I want to spend them on my-” He stopped himself from finishing the sentence and swallowed audibly.

 

Rose squealing in delight got their attention, Jon had apparently delivered the news.

 

“Let’s just say, that nothing would make me happier right now, than giving those kids what they want in this moment” Harry added with a lot more emotion in his voice.   

 

Jonathan ended up getting the rare vinyl he’d first picked out, as well as a cheap CD and a poster.

 

Rose decided on a bunch of different CD’s and a poster.

 

“I think it’s kind of bizarre, the way kids these days are obsessed with the physical records.” Louis pondered on their way back to Zayn’s. 

 

“Our generation fought so hard to make the physical media obsolete. Damn it, we fought our asses off to get digital music without the addition of plastic.”

 

The kids rolled their eyes. They had heard this before.

 

Harry chuckled at that. “And here the next generation is diving into all the old plastic and rolling around in it, like streaming didn’t even exist.”

 

“Exactly! I’m not even sure we have anything to play CD’s on.”

 

“You don’t have a CD player?” Harry looked shocked at that information.

 

“No. And I don’t think any of the disc drives in any of our computers work either.” Louis tried to remember if he had a disc drive in his laptop. If so, that might be a functional one.

 

“Well, then you know what to get them for christmas.”

 

“Yeah. And I’ll have to start buying them presents soon.” Louis nodded.

 

Harry turned to look at him, confusion painted on his face. “It’s August, Lou.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave nice comments, because none of my people are here, I'm lonely and I need validation from strangers on the internet.


	22. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings:**  
>  Some fighting. Some display of behaviour typical for emotional abuse victims - for example, not recognising their own needs and emotions and not being able to label abusive situations as abusive.  
> Descriptions of society’s failure to help domestic abuse survivors.
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Just Hold On - Steve Aoki, Louis Tomlinson  
> Guardian Angel - Lovex  
> The Resistance - Skillet  
> Beggin - Madcon
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w

 

The week that followed their London trip was chaotic, to say the least.

 

The kids were scheduled to go to their father’s the day after their return from London. Rose had bought hair dye from the alternative shop in London, and stubbornly demanded that Louis helped her dye her hair that morning.

 

Pink haired and happy, she had cheerily taken her backpack and left to go to her other home.

 

Harry expected Jonathan to follow not long after, but the teenager seemed to have different  plans. Still clad in his pyjamas, he walked in and out of his room, huffing in frustration.

 

After hours of that same behaviour, Harry noticed that this was Jonathan stalling. Something was strange.

 

Louis sat by his computer and worked on a follow up article on something he’d written before. Harry didn’t couldn’t really differentiate between one of Louis’ writings and another.

 

He did, however, read everything Louis wrote and was adamant about complimenting him on his work. 

 

Louis really was a brilliant writer and deserved all the compliments. His writing style was diverse - he could be poetic and dreamy, he could be objective and factual, he could be strict and professional and he could be playful and rebellious. 

 

Louis knew how to make art out of words and Harry admired him so much for that.

 

The first time Harry had complimented Louis’ writing, in the beginning of their relationship, the man had been rendered speechless - did nothing but stare at Harry with his mouth hanging open and those beautiful sapphire eyes wide and unblinking. 

 

He’d come out of his shock when Harry had drawn him in and kissed his nose - he then whispered a quiet thank you and revealed that he couldn’t remember that anyone had ever expressly appreciated his writing before. 

 

When Harry had questioned the statement, his boyfriend had corrected it to that no one that mattered, had ever complimented his writing before. And Harry’s heart ached so much for this man. 

 

Louis was so beautiful and so wonderful and he deserved to know that the people he loved appreciated his work. Maybe that lack of support was the reason Louis never had found the confidence to do anything other than shyly stay in the background with his writing. He never had the confidence to do anything big with his work - to go for his dreams - but settled for posting his compositions on the quiet corners of the internet.

 

Harry could see the same thing applying to Louis’ children.

 

Despite her young age, Rose was a talented artist. She drew and painted with a skill that amazed anyone who saw her drawings. But the girl herself didn’t want to show any of her art outside of family. It was clear she didn’t believe in herself.

 

The same with Jonathan and his creative hobby of playing the guitar. Harry had dabbled a bit with his acoustic one for years and years, but Jonathan’s talent exceeded his by miles and miles. But whenever him playing was brought up, and compliments were given, the boy shut down like a clam and refused to discuss it.

 

They were hurt the same way, all three of the people that Harry quickly had come to consider his own family. They all carried the same wounds, and Harry’s heart was hurting for them - so much.

 

But they were strong together. They were a tight knit family, their bonds forged solid by atrocity. There was so much love and admiration between the three, Harry could see it every day. 

 

He was lucky to have been let in. He hoped that got to stay and that the love he felt for all three of them would be returned.   

 

From the outside it was easy to see what aspects were still hurting and what they had managed to heal - individually and as a family.

 

If only Louis would be receptive to Harry’s suggestions.

 

“Lou,” Harry approached Louis at his desk, where he was writing at the speed of light, the keyboard rattling like a machine gun, as words were rapidly added to the document on the screen. 

 

“Have you noticed that Jon is stalling?”

 

The sounds of the keyboard quieted as Louis turned to Harry, hands still poised over the keys, ready to launch off another sentence at any moment. An empty tea cup was placed on top of an open notebook, filled with messy scribble.

 

“What do you mean?” He asked, and then his fingers moved to send off a bunch of words into the document, whilst still keeping his eyes on Harry.

 

That was a freaky talent of Louis’, being able to hold a conversation at the same time as his fingers wrote something.  

 

“He’s not always this slow is he? Rose left a few hours ago.”

 

“Really?” Louis facial expression changed to one of surprise, and he squinted his eyes at the small clock in the corner of his computer screen. 

 

“It feels like fifteen or so minutes since she came to give me a hug goodbye.”

 

“Yeah, no, three or so hours.”

 

Louis hummed and then yelled for Jonathan so loud that Harry was startled.

 

The boy came scuffling out of his room, looking a little frazzled. But at least he’d put jeans on.

 

“Hey, how is the packing going? Are you ready to leave soon?” Louis asked curiously, fingers typing out a few words, and then added “You know I’d like for you to get going before dark, I don’t want you running around at night.”

 

“I know, it’s just that I can’t find anything I want to take with me.”

 

“What’s missing then? I’ll help you find it.” Louis wondered and stood up from his chair.

 

“I’m not really sure…” Jonathan mumbled and fidgeted. “I’ll know when I see it.”

 

Louis watched his son silently for a moment and then asked gently, “What’s going on, Jon?”

 

The boy huffed and walked around them to throw himself on the sofa.

 

“I’m not emotionally ready to go to Papa’s.” he said eventually and by the way Louis’ face crumpled, Harry knew he was familiar with the feeling.  

 

Louis sighed and sat down beside him, draping his arm over Jonathan’s shoulders.

 

“Okay. Can I make it easier for you somehow? I can call Papa and tell him that you’re staying another day.”

 

“No!” The boy almost shouted. “No… He’ll want to talk about it then, and make me sit by the table until he’s gotten an answer he’s happy with.”

 

“Well, if you don’t-” Louis paused, obviously looking for the right words. “Get on… at Papa’s you should be honest about it.”

 

“It’s really not that bad,” Jonathan defended as he sat up straighter and placed his feet on the coffee table. “I can be there, it’s just sometimes I can’t really deal. I need to be able  _ breathe _ .”

 

Louis sighed again, eyes flickering to Harry’s, like he was pleading Harry to come up with a solution.

 

“How about this,” he said soothingly. “I’ll tell your Papa know that you’ve thrown up and it looks like stomach flu. You can stay and gather strength until tomorrow, without having to answer any questions. How does that sound?”   

 

“Okay,” Jonathan let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank you, Dad.”

 

When the boy had gone back to his room and Louis returned to his seat by the computer, he turned guiltily to Harry - who still was standing awkwardly behind the desk chair.

 

“I hope it’s alright that Jon stays. I remember you talking about dinner, but I don’t know if you had any plans for us or-”

 

“Hey, no, Lou.The kids are more important than anything I do or don’t do.” Harry promised and leaned down to kiss the corner of his eye.

 

His plans of making some sort of romantic gesture that evening and telling Louis that he’d fallen in love with him, would have to wait.

 

He was about to leave the room - perhaps go out for a walk or go home to his own flat, where he hadn’t really been for months - when he turned around and fixed Louis with what he hoped was a stern look.

 

“But I still think that you should tell them what Joseph has done. Jonathan is torn between his own feelings and the need to protect his father - you saw that.”

 

“It’s not that easy,” Louis shook his head solemnly.

 

“I know. But you need to tell them. They have the right to know. They have holes in their stories. Their bodies know what has happened. Their subconscious minds know. And their souls know, but they have holes and that’s preventing them from healing.”

 

* * *

 

The next time the same issue came up was a couple of weeks later and was again a result of Jonathan’s actions.

 

Harry was sitting in the armchair in the corner of their - of Louis’ -  living room, reading a book. Louis was lying on the sofa, doing something on his phone when the front door opened and shut with a bang, and a moment later Jonathan flopped down on Louis’ legs and asked it he had a second.

 

The boy looked nervous, perhaps this was a private matter.

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Harry asked from behind his book.

 

“No, Harry, I don’t mind you being here.” He fiddled with the strings of his hoodie.

 

Louis sat up with a worried look on his face. “Is something wrong? It’s not like you to come barreling in like this when it’s Papa’s week.”

 

“No, nothing wrong,” the boy mumbled. “I just want to tell you something.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Jonathan huffed and squirmed while bouncing his legs restlessly until Louis opened his arms and asked if he preferred to hug while talking. The boy surged forward so fast that Harry was expecting them both to fall over.

 

Much like the last time Harry witnessed an important conversation between father and son, he was mighty impressed with Louis’ way of making Jonathan feel comfortable enough to talk.

 

“Promise you won’t tell Papa?” Harry could barely hear the quiet murmur into Louis neck.

 

“I promise,” was Louis reassuring answer.

 

Jonathan let go of the hug, sat up and started picking on the sleeves of Louis’ sweatshirt. Then he smiled shyly.

 

“I’ve met someone.”

 

Louis face lit up in a bright smile and Harry felt warmth seeping through his chest. Louis smile and the genuine way he so empathetically took part in his children’s lives was heartwarming. Harry loved him so much.  

 

“Really? Tell me about this person.” Louis bent down his head in an attempt to catch Jonathan’s gaze.

 

“I don’t know what to say?”

 

“Well,” Louis chuckled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

 

Jonathan snorted. “It’s a girl. I’m not gay, Dad.”

 

“Well, how am I supposed to know? You always say that you don’t want to label yourself.” Louis smiled.

 

“Yeah, well I’m not into guys.” Jonathan stated surely. “Her name is Violet.”

 

“Violet,” Louis repeated. “It’s a pretty name. How did you meet?”

 

“Online-” Jonathan said and was cut off by Louis’ sharp intake of breath. Harry felt his own heart speed up a bit with worry. “I  _ know,  _ Dad, and I have been careful. She- she lives in Manchester.”

 

“Okay, I trust you.” Louis exhaled after a few breaths of silence. 

 

“So you have only met online, or are you trying to tell me that you have sneaked off to unauthorized trips out of town?- Online  _ where _ , by the way?”

 

Harry could see Louis wince at the word  _ unauthorized, _ knowing he didn’t want to be controlling of his kids.

 

“No, that’s why I’m telling you this. I need you to take me to see her for real.” Jonathan was grinning widely as he launched a long description of his maybe girlfriend.

 

“We met at a forum for- like- ehm- self harm?” He mumbled and rushed into the next part of telling. 

 

“But she’s so perfect, Dad. Perfect for me. Like- if I’d built her in a lab to suit me perfectly, it couldn’t be better than she is. So beautiful and funny and sweet and weird… so weird,” Jonathan chuckled.

 

_ Kind of like Louis _ , Harry’s brain interjected his listening - while trying not to listen in on the conversation he had no part in. Oh, who was he kidding? He was curious and interested.   

 

“I’m happy for you, kid.” Louis smiled and Harry agreed silently. 

 

“We’ll look into going to visit her when you come home from your Papa’s.” he decided.

 

Jonathan nodded. Still fiddling with the hem of Louis’ sleeve. “I- ehm, that’s not all. I wanted to- I need to be careful with her.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, she’s- she’s having a rough time. Her mom drinks a lot and she’s been- she’s been raped.” Jonathan blinked away tears and whispered the last word, as if saying it quietly would make it less horrible.

 

Harry’s stomach plummeted.

 

“I’m sorry honey.” Louis hugged his son and Harry felt the need to go sit next to Jonathan and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“Me too.” Jonathan sobbed. “But I feel like I can really comfort her, you know? I  _ can _ help her.”

 

Louis hummed and rubbed his back.

 

“Dad, I want to thank you.” Jonathan blubbered.

 

“Oh, sweetie, what for?” Louis soothed.

 

“For- for teaching me good values. And for not knowing better than to put me through an awful childhood.”

 

Harry could see Louis eyes glistening with tears. His heart ached with sympathy for Louis’ pain and with pride for this beautiful, brave kid, that was so, so wise for such a young age. 

 

He surely was going to change the world.

 

Harry was lucky to be in this family.

 

Louis arms visibly hugged Jonathan tighter. 

 

“My sweet baby,” he murmured into Jonathan’s hair while Harry was rubbing his back with one hand and Louis’ arm with the other. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m so sorry for everything.”

 

“No, Dad, all the shit has taught me a lot. I can understand others- I understand Violet and I can help her.” Jonathan cleared his throat. 

 

“And you’ve given me the speech about consent more than double- maybe even triple the times than I’ve had birthdays. So I  _ know _ I won’t hurt her that way - not even accidentally.”

 

Harry was so proud. So, so proud, of both of his men. They would be alright. They would all be alright.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, when Jonathan had gone back to his other parent and Harry and Louis were starting to get ready for bed, Harry felt the need to once more urge Louis to be open and honest with his kids.

 

He had done some research these past weeks and had come to the conclusion that yes, his instinct was correct, both Louis and his kids would have a greater chance at healing fully if all cards were on the table, so to speak.

 

“Lou?” Harry called to Louis, who had just finished brushing his teeth in the bathroom. 

 

“Do you know why Jon doesn’t want Joseph to know things? Like that he has a girlfriend?”

 

Louis came into the kitchen, looking all cute and cuddly with his hair lying flat on his forehead and baggy sweatpants hanging off his soft hips.

 

“Joseph’s a dick, that’s why. The kids instinctively know not to trust him.” Louis quips offhandedly while rummaging the cupboard for a glass and filling it with water.

 

“Do the kids know  _ why _ they can’t trust him?”

 

Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry and put the glass down on the sink. 

 

“What are you getting at?”

 

Harry braced himself, because he had no fantasies about this going any other way than Louis becoming angry at him. He still felt the need to try to make Louis understand why he kept bringing up this issue.

 

“Tell your kids that their father abused you for years and years. Let them know that  _ they  _ are not crazy.” Harry said slowly and deliberately. He didn’t want there to be any questions about what he was saying.

 

“Are we really having this conversation again?” Louis’ high pitched voice said incredulously. “I can’t fucking believe it.”

 

Energetically Louis deflated but his body geared up for confrontation. He widened his stance, placed both hands on his hips and fixed Harry with a fuming stare.

 

God, he was so sexy like this, Harry thought briefly, before the anger ignited a spark in him too.

 

“Apparently we are, since you’re not seeing why it would help all of you to have it out in the open.” Harry defended, voice low and posture threatening.

 

Louis took a step forward, as if to show that he was not afraid. “That’s not how this world works. Leave it be.”

 

“No, I won’t leave it, because I can see how much it hurts the kids. And how much it hurts you. You need to talk about this with them, Lou.” Harry retorted stubbornly.

 

“Harry! I love you, but you have  _ no idea _ what you’re talking about. You don’t know anything!” Louis screeched.

 

“I  _ do _ know some things.” Harry shot back, voice equally raised, anger flooding his features. Why the fuck was Louis being so stupidly stubborn?

 

Louis took a few deep breaths and with and eerily calm and collected voice he said: “No, Harry. You  _ don’t. _ ”

 

“You have no idea what it’s like. I’m not telling the kids because I am  _ protecting _ them.” Louis seethed. “I. Am. Protecting. Them.”

 

Louis took slow steps towards Harry. “Do you know what would happen if I told them, Harry? Do you?”

 

By the intense anger in Louis’ eyes, Harry could tell it was a rhetorical question, so he opted to just swallow thickly.

 

“Let me tell you, what happens if I tell the kids the truth.” Louis said, as he came to stand chest to chest with Harry.

 

“For starters, there’s all the pain of all the lying and deceiving they would have to deal with. My betrayal, their father’s betrayal. They will be hurt by the information and by being kept in the dark - but I suppose that’s something we could deal with.”

 

“But then they would want to confront that arse. They would demand answers and deliver accusations. They would want to protect me and seek justice. And do you know, Harry, what that psychotic shit would do to them? He would destroy them. He’s a master of psychological warfare, he would break them down. He would destroy them to get back at me and to convince them and the rest of the world than I am lying.”

 

Angry tears were welling up in Louis’ eyes, but Harry didn’t dare to wipe them off. Or do anything other than listen to Louis reasons.

 

“I know what you’re thinking. Get the social services involved, protect the kids from that psycho, bla, bla…” Louis breathed in and out through his nose before he continued. “The world  _ doesn’t work _ that way, Harry.”

 

“Do you know how survivors of domestic abuse are treated by the authorities,  _ Harry _ ?” Louis asked almost manically.

 

“They-  _ We  _ are treated as liars. We are treated as jealous, hysterical exes, whose favourite hobbies are to destroy the lives and reputations of hardworking and honest family fathers - like we do it out of fun and have nothing better to do, than to lie and shittalk our innocent exes.”

 

Louis was breathing harshly, like he had a panic attack coming. Harry sneaked his arms around his waist in a comforting gesture. 

 

Louis placed both palms on Harry’s chest and pushed to show that he was not having it, but he didn’t move away.

 

A few moments later Louis continued, voice quiet, like all the fight left him. 

 

“We are not taken seriously. We’re doubted and shamed and ridiculed. We’re required to present evidence, which is then doubted and treated as fabricated. Everything is considered lies until proven otherwise.”

 

“We’re constantly made stupid by comments about why we just didn’t leave or report the abusive piece of shit. It’s fucking laughable, that people can’t see that those  _ exact _ comments are part of the problem.”

 

The fight seemed to return to Louis and once again he fixed Harry with a furious stare.

 

“So you see, Harry, that I can’t tell the kids. Because what happens to lying parents who are deliberately trying to prevent their children from seeing their other parent whilst sabotaging the life of said parent?”

 

“They get their children taken away and placed with the abusive fucking piece of shit. I can’t have that!  _ Harry _ .”

 

“I’m sorry.” Harry murmured and Louis let out a sigh.

 

“Why do you think I’m stupid?” Louis questioned sadly. 

 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried every way I could think of to get the kids away from there? This is the only way I have. It might prevent them from healing properly, but at least I get to comfort them every other week. I get to strengthen them and I get to try to reverse some of the damage that he’s done.”

 

“I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t realise… And I don’t think you’re stupid.” Harry kissed his forehead. “You’re wonderful. So strong and so brave.”

 

“I know you didn’t realise. But now you do. This is everything I can do without hurting the kids more, don’t you understand that?” Louis stepped back, away from Harry’s embrace. He looked so small, staring sadly at the floor.

 

“Hey, Lou?” Harry said, and when he had eye contact with a deflated Louis again, he smirked mischievously. “You said that you love me.”

 

“Yeah. Well- I hadn’t planned on it.” Louis huffed and his hands were back on his hips. “I was going to wait, until you said it first.”

 

Harry’s smile widened. The sad atmosphere lingered, but a surge of happiness shot through it, like a shooting star.

 

“I love you too. So much. So, so much.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. :)
> 
>  
> 
> The next chapter is a smutty one. Up in however long the editing takes.


	23. The Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the smuttiest chapter I've written and I'm not sorry at all. 
> 
> Yeah, so **trigger** \- smut. 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Dusk Till Dawn - Zayn, Sia  
> Strip That Down - Liam Payne, Quavo  
> No Control - One Direction  
> Curly Sue - Takida
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w

 

Louis was frozen. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe what he was seeing. The words echoed in his head, like annoying, taunting little - somethings.

 

_ I love you too. So much. So, so much. _

 

Louis had fantasised about this moment hundreds of times these past few weeks. He had wondered what it would feel like if Harry ever told him that he was in love with him. He had thought about declaring his love for Harry, but the fear of his feelings not being reciprocated had always stopped him. His fear had also decided not to say a peep about it, not until Harry said it first.  

 

Of course Louis had fucked that up and let his anger cloud his mind and the declaration had just slipped out without him noticing.

 

Funny how that worked out. Now that the moment had come, Louis was paralysed and didn’t know what to do.

 

A part of him wanted to play it off like a joke, treat it like there wasn’t any way at all it could be believable. Another part of him wanted to fall into a pile of soft blankets and cry for a week. Yet another part wanted to burst into song. Maybe he should start calling friends and relatives and tell them the good news?

 

Harry looked so beautiful with his hair up in a bun and a smile playing at his lips. Louis could tell that he wasn’t lying by the amount of adoration he held in the gaze directed at him. Harry was telling the truth. He loved Louis back. And he deserved to get some sort of reaction for his troubles.  

 

But Louis was just standing there, with his hands on his hips and a ratty old t-shirt hanging off his shoulders, unable to move.

 

Then Harry apparently decided that Louis had been crazy for long enough, because he took a step forward and gently caressed Louis’ cheek.

 

“Are you alright, Lou?” He asked, features shifting into slight concern, as he let his fingers settle under Louis’ chin and tilted his face upwards.

 

That seemed to bring all the life back to Louis and he could suddenly form words.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m sorry, Lou.” Harry placed tender kisses on his lips. “I’m sorry for making us fight and trying to force you to see it my way.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Louis’ new vocabulary was apparently huge.

 

“I love you.” Harry reminded.

 

“I love you too. I’m sorry too.” Louis brain finally returned to somewhat normal state and he started to kiss Harry back.

 

“How about-” Harry tried to speak between the kisses, but Louis put so much emotion into them that Harry couldn’t get a word in. 

 

He’d just had a fight with the man he loved, he would damn well kiss him a lot before any talking was allowed.

 

Harry giggled against his lips, let his hands wander down Louis’ body and accepted the kisses of remorse and relief.

 

A few moments later Harry apparently saw his chance and disconnected entirely when Louis let go for a small breathing break.

 

“How about I give you a massage?” He suggested, voice low and inviting. “As an apology for starting a fight and to give you a chance to relax?

 

“Are you volunteering to massage me?” Louis asked with slight suspicion. This was starting to sound way too good to be true.

 

Harry nodded happily.

 

“For how long? Will you fall asleep five minutes in?” Louis did have experience with this.

 

“No, baby,” Harry kissed impatiently along Louis’ neck. “I want to give you a full body massage. That’ll take at least forty minutes, most likely closer to an hour.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. I want you to relax. And I want to touch you. And I want to say I love you to every part of your gorgeous body.”

 

_ Oh. _ Louis’ body was definitely interested in that. He loved a massage - specifically one that lead to things beyond a massage.

 

“Okay. But I want to shower first,” he decided.

 

* * *

 

The shower lasted a lot longer than Louis had intended. He just wanted to be clean and smell nice, if Harry was about to worship his body. But once the warm water had chased away the lingering remains of Louis’ anger, he decided that now was the time - he was ready and they had both been patient enough.

 

The thought of finally getting to feel Harry inside of him, made Louis a bit nervous, so he had to do some breathing exercises.

 

Louis cleaned himself very, very thoroughly. And in doing so, he discovered that he might need a slight trim down there. A lot of time went into shaving and trimming and making sure he looked pretty for Harry - the same Harry who now knew that Louis loved him. That was kind of amazing, wasn’t it? 

 

Happiness bubbled in Louis and he couldn’t help but grin widely to himself in the shower.  

 

When Louis finally stepped out of the shower, he was relieved to hear Harry messing about in the flat. Good, then he hadn’t fallen asleep like Louis was afraid he’d done.

 

He dried off, fastened the purple towel around his waist and took a moment to inspect himself in the mirror.

 

His mind was rapidly going through some sort of incoherent checklist - should he fix his hair? Did his toenails need clipping? Why didn’t he store sexy clothes in the bathroom? What does he weigh? Cologne? Lip gloss?

 

Louis felt a little bit like he was about to lose his virginity, the way he fussed about getting ready. And in a way, maybe he was.   

 

More than an hour after going into the bathroom, Louis stepped out again, with his heart racing and every butterfly that ever existed, going wild in his stomach.

 

He’d opted out of more grooming and left the lip gloss untouched. He did weigh himself though - 68 kilograms was a bit less than he expected. One of these days he’d have to build up some muscle.

 

As for sexy clothing, the purple towel - slid down low on his hips to reveal his happy trail and a bit of newly trimmed pubic hair - would have to do.

 

His bare feet quietly made their way across the hallway. He could hear calming music playing at a low volume in the bedroom and when he reached the doorway, a shirtless Harry was shaking out a fresh bed sheet and draping it over the bed.

 

“You changed the bedding?”

 

Harry looked up from where he was straightening out the creases on the sheet, his eyes travelled up and down Louis’ body and it took him a moment to find his words.

 

“Yeah, I thought it’d be nice with fresh linens. And then I put a towel and this extra sheet above the other, so it doesn’t matter if we smear massage oil everywhere.”

 

“Massage oil- and other stuff,” Louis supplied with a smirk.

 

There were at least ten candles lit around the room and the soft music created a sensual atmosphere.

 

Harry stepped up to Louis, humming appreciatively and dragging his fingers along Louis’ arms, sending shivers through his body. “So you’re looking for  _ that _ kind of massage, hm?”

 

“I- yeah,” Louis could feel himself blush. “I was actually thinking,” He stepped around Harry, climbed up on the bed and sat in the middle of it. “That after this massage, I could maybe… ride you?”

 

Harry groaned.

 

“Lou, I’d love it, but are you sure?” He hurried to get on the bed after Louis. “Just because we got the test results back, doesn’t mean we have to go for it right away.”

 

They had had  _ the  _ talk in bits and pieces. They had learned a lot about each other over the summer and Louis had slowly let Harry know about all of his insecurities when it came to sex. 

 

Harry had never pushed in a demanding way, but carefully coaxed Louis out of his hiding by showing him that there was nothing to be worried about.

 

One of Louis’ major fears had been that he’d have an STD he didn’t know of. He hadn’t had penetrative sex for years and years, but what if he carried some unknown infection from years ago - when he did have a lot of sex.

 

That problem was solved by Harry dragging a mortified Louis to the clinic to have them both tested. 

 

As it turned out, they were both clean, so that was a huge relief. They also knew that no condoms were required if they didn’t want to use one. Which was good, since there were none of those in Louis’ home - he’d totally forgotten to buy some.

 

“I’m sure. I’m ready and I don’t want to wait anymore.” Louis smiled with certainty. Then he took off his towel and dropped it on the floor.

 

“Now, I was promised a massage, so get going! How do you want me?” Louis demanded, as he laid back on the bed, stark naked and dick already perking up in interest.

 

Harry crawled on top of him, eyes dark with want, and attached his lips to Louis’ jaw. “I want you every way I can have you, and then some. I want you forever and ever, and in every lifetime.”

 

“I love you,” he kept mumbling as he kissed up and down the length of Louis’ neck.

 

“And I love you, but come on, make me feel good,” Louis was getting impatient. The thrumming of nerves and the swooping and fluttering of his butterflies, mixed with the expectations and beginning arousal was almost too much.

 

“Oh, I’m going to make you feel so good, you’ll never want to leave this bed.” Harry promised, continuing to get Louis all riled up.

 

He sat between Louis’ legs and reached for a small brown glass bottle on the bedside table - well, the rickety old chair that had the job of a bedside table.

 

“What’s that?” Louis asked, knowing full well that it was the massage oil. Maybe he should give up talking all together.

 

“Homemade massage oil,” Harry smiled proudly, just before he tilted the bottle and a thin stream of oil dripped down on the middle of Louis’ chest.

 

Louis hissed at the cold and felt goosebumps erupt all over him. A flowery smell spread in the room and he closed his eyes, deciding to just enjoy Harry’s touch on him.

 

“Smells good.” Louis mumbled, relaxing under Harry’s hands, that carefully spread the oil onto his chest and arms.

 

“Mmhm. It’s jasmine, ginger and orange.”  Harry informed him. “It’s supposed to be sensual.”

 

It felt so good, as Harry worked his way from Louis chest and arms, down to his belly and thighs. He sweetly murmured something about starting from the heart, and following the path of the blood and of the love, Louis didn’t really care to understand right now.

 

He drifted off to some place that wasn’t sleep, but where most of his thoughts just disappeared and all he could do was feel the sensations of Harry tenderly touching him, as he methodically rubbed Louis’ muscles in circular motions, fingers gently pinching his skin on the up-stroke, so to speak.

 

Louis was tingling all over, he felt fuzzy and content. Nothing in the world beyond the bed really mattered, Harry and his touch were the most important things. Louis was in heaven.

 

He was sort of horny too, but not really, too relaxed to even imagine doing anything about the pulsing of his hard dick.

 

Louis expected Harry to continue down to his shins and feet, so his eyes shot open in surprise when suddenly Harry’s hand took a firm hold of his dick. He had a smug expression on his face, as he made sure the entire dick was thoroughly coated in massage oil.

 

“Can you turn around now?”

 

Louis wasn’t sure he could, but a few moments of huffing and puffing, he’d successfully turned to lay on his stomach.

 

Harry let his oily palm drag from Louis shoulder, down to the dip of his waist and over the swell of his bum, stopping at the back of his knee. He whispered praise and I love you’s as he went.

 

“Hold on-” Harry said, and climbed off the bed. Louis whined disapprovingly, but couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes and see where he went.

 

A moment later Harry was back on the bed, urging Louis to lift his hips, sliding a pillow under them.

 

Louis shivered. He felt on display, but he also felt sexy. Harry wanted to have him this way. All exposed and ready for whatever Harry had in mind.

 

He could feel Harry shuffling back on the bed, and then he started massaging his feet and calves.

 

“You’re gorgeous, baby, I love the sounds you’re making.” Harry praised and Louis suddenly became aware  that he was letting out small moans and sighs as Harry’s hands moved up towards his thighs.

 

He didn’t know how much time had gone by, when the hands that was supposed to reach his upper thighs any second, suddenly just disappeared, Louis let out a drawn out, high pitched “noo”.

 

Harry straddled his thighs and then leaned forward to lay on top of him. “I’m here, baby, I’m just moving on to your back.” He chuckled huskily and Louis forgot to breathe.

 

He could feel Harry’s naked skin against his, he must’ve taken off his sweats and underwear then. Harry’ hard dick pressed against his arse and arousal spiked in Louis. 

 

He was satisfied that this was making Harry hard too. His own dick was about to fall off.

 

“Is this okay?” Harry asked and ground his dick harder against Louis, to indicate what he was asking permission for. We waited for Louis’ answer before proceeding to pour massage oil on Louis’ back and continuing the circular motions there.

 

Everything was such a weird combo of sensations of pleasure and relaxation, that made Louis suspect he wasn’t coming out of this alive.

 

He was trapped underneath Harry, unable to move his legs in a delicious way. His arse was elevated - with everything showing probably - and Harry’s dick was pressed snugly against his crack. 

 

With every movement Harry made with his hands, massaging Louis’ back, he pressed even closer to Louis. At the same time Louis dick was rubbing against the pillow, creating some maddening and much needed friction.

 

“I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” Harry’s admiration was audible as he kept driving Louis wild.

 

Then finally,  _ finally _ , Harry’s hands were on Louis bum, gently massaging the muscles. 

 

Louis had no concept of time anymore, his body was buzzing with desperate and intense  _ need,  _ but he would bet that it had been weeks since they started. Maybe months.

 

No more waiting.

 

Louis was sure his desperation could be heard in his moans and whimpers, but he didn’t care. He was too far gone in the land of arousal and sexual frustration for that.

 

Harry shuffled around again, placing himself back between Louis’ legs. Soon his oil coated fingers were lightly ghosting over Louis’ hole.

 

“Are you sure- are you sure you want me to- to fuck you?” The tremor in Harry’s voice could be heard. Louis took great pleasure in knowing that Harry was just as affected as he was - and they had barely started yet.

 

“Yes! Yes. Please. Please, Harry.” Louis spread his legs and hoped that was invitation enough.

 

“Yeah, okay, let me just get the lube.”

 

Then Louis felt a wet, cold finger dip into him and he moaned loudly. “Oh god. Fuck.”

 

“Fuck you’re so sexy, Lou.” Harry groaned. “Turn around, I want to see you.”

 

All the lethargy and the dullness that the relaxation of the massage had provided, was suddenly gone. In an instance Louis was lying on his back, arms around Harry’s neck, pulling him in for an intense kiss.

 

The entire room felt electric and Louis could swear he saw sparks flying around. His vision was foggy, except for Harry. He could see Harry very clearly - his features were sharp and animated. Louis felt attuned to even the smallest of his movements. He could see, hear and feel everything Harry at this moment - the puff of his breath, the hammering of his pulse, the twitching of his muscles. And most of all, he could see, hear and feel the desire, the need, in Harry’s intense and focused gaze.

 

It felt like the universe was finally clicking into position. The puzzle pieces that had been strewn around and lost in dark corners and creases, were finally found and placed where they fit. Everything was put right. Undeniably and undoubtedly.

 

Louis was finally home.

 

The intensity of their actions came in waves - it was both affectionate and loving, and passionate and raw.

 

Harry opened him up slowly and patiently, with one, two and then three fingers, all while placing wet, bitey kisses on his collarbones.

 

Everything was calm and serene, but also intense and buzzing. It was all heated touches and hot breaths, while slowly and lovingly allowing access to each others bodies in yet another way.

 

The air around them was as charged as the arousal building up in both of them. Louis was certain no one would come out of this alive - and it would be so worth it.

 

“Are you sure?” Harry asked once more, when he had pulled out his fingers and wiped them off on the sheet. “We don’t have to, if it doesn’t feel right.”

 

“I’m ready, I’m ready, Harry please.” Louis gasped desperately. “I need you.”

 

Harry had barely laid down on his back, when Louis climbed on top of him and was already straddling his hips, positioning himself over Harry’s leaking dick.

 

He began to slowly sink down on it, breath catching and his entire body tensing up. Fuck, it hurt more than Louis remembered it could.

 

“Do you need more prepping?” His voice was strained, but Harry was still as attentive as ever.

 

Louis shook his head and took a few deep breaths as his body got used to Harry’s. He then sank down all the way and Harry gripped his hips tightly, holding him still.

 

“Don’t- move-” Harry gritted out, squeezing his eyes shut, clearly trying to compose himself.

 

Louis could feel his body tightening, building up pressure. He could feel Harry’s dick pressing dully against his prostate. 

 

Normally he would be able to handle that, but now the arousal, desire and pure, raw need, that had been coursing through his veins for ever, was making everything extremely sensitive.

 

He needed to move.

 

“Give me a minute Lou. Lou, I’m not going to last...” Harry gasped.

 

Louis was panting just as hard as Harry, who desperately tried to will his body to relax, so they both could enjoy this.

 

The world was once again blurring around them but Louis could see galaxies in the greens of Harry’s eyes, while he did his best to just stay still, trying not to explode yet.

 

Then Harry tightened his grip on Louis’ hips, and he shivered. Then Louis clenched, and unclenched. And suddenly Harry’s feet were placed flat on the bed and with his knees bent behind Louis, he was fucking into him.

 

“Fuuuck.” Harry moaned, as his hips thrust up into Louis two, three more times, before he was coming.  

 

And then Louis was coming, moaning loudly as the orgasm was ripped out of him and he spurted across Harry’s chest.

 

Everything stilled.

 

Louis began to lean down to lay on Harry and trying to catch his breath, when suddenly he’s flipped around and laid on his back.

 

Harry started to purposefully push into Louis again. With one hand he grabbed hold of Louis still hard dick, and started pumping it at the same pace. The other hand was flat on the bed, arm extended, and kept him from laying his entire weight on Louis.

 

“This- is not- how I wanted- our first- fuck to be.” Harry growled furiously into Louis’ neck.

 

He kept fucking him in a punishing pace, and Louis was wailing. It was too much, but it hurt so deliciously that Louis couldn’t help but want more and more and more.

 

“I wanted- this to last. I wanted- to give you the best- the best fuck of your life.” Harry stuttered hoarsely, pressing his mouth against Louis shoulder as he tried to speak. He was so fucking sexy. “I wanted to give you everything.”   

 

“You are. Fuck- you are. Oh god. So good.” 

 

Louis bit down on Harry’s shoulder, clawed at his back and wailed about how good it was, while Harry kept fucking him and declaring his intentions.

 

Once Harry was sure both of their dicks would stay erect, he let go of Louis’ and leaned in to kiss him harshly, before sitting up on his haunches. He kept his dick inside Louis and grabbed his hips, lifted them up from the bed and continued his hard, deep thrusts.

 

“I wanted-” he grit through his teeth, “to give you so much pleasure.”

 

Louis was holding on for dear life as Harry forcefully slammed into his prostate over and over again.

 

“Wanted to draw it out. You deserve- love making- that lasts for hours.” Harry panted between his thrusts.

 

“Come here. Give me a kiss.” Louis reached up to playfully pull Harry down by his hair. It made Harry let out one of his gorgeous sounds.

 

A few moments of kissing slowed down everything and Louis could get a good look at Harry. He gently caressed his cheek and tightened his legs around him. He was sure to look straight at Harry, so he could see how much he meant it.

 

“You did. You have.” Louis said, voice full of love, still out of breath. “You’ve given me so much tonight. I’ve never had sex like this. This is perfect. I love this. I love you.”

 

When they finished a handful of moments later, they were both teary eyed and tired. The build up and the release so intense, that it deeply affected them both.

 

Louis was so happy. And now he knew for sure.

 

He was never letting Harry go.  

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. Well. It's a bit hot in here, isn't it?


	24. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:**  
>  Past abuse. Repressed memories surfacing.  
> Detailed descriptions of an abusive situation where a small child was involved.  
> Emotional trauma. 
> 
> This is a really difficult chapter. Be careful, stay safe.
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Nightmare - Avenged Sevenfold  
> Stand My Ground - Within Temptation  
> Losing You - Dead By April  
> Awake And Alive - Skillet
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w

 

Autumn turned out to be a lot more insane than Louis remembered it ever being before.

 

New schedules for both school and practice needed to be learned and adjusted to. Worries about the kids’ well being, and figuring out what measures needed to be taken to ensure just that, took up a lot of time.

 

Louis didn’t even have time to shop for Christmas presents.

 

There were, of course, all the usual spats and fights with Joseph. Surprisingly enough, Louis wasn’t the one doing most of those. (During the first parent-teacher conference for the autumn, Louis had noticed that he really wasn’t that bothered by Joseph being in his vicinity anymore. Huh. What a feeling of freedom.)

 

No, Rose was the one on the frontlines, doing most of the fighting. And as a result, she’d started spending more and more time with Louis, pointedly avoiding her other parent.

 

As Rose’s fights with Joseph led to several long conversations between Louis and her, he discovered that he no longer had any qualms about suggesting that Rose might want to try to live with one parent only, to ease the stress about moving back and forth. Or at least change the amount of days spent at each parent’s and to have only one ‘home base’ so to speak.

 

Then one night there was a text from Joseph.

 

**_Your daughter wants to live with you full time. Is that okay with you?_ **

 

_ Of course it is. We’ve talked about making some changes to her schedule, and trying to find one that lessens her anxiety. _

 

**_Fine. Then she’s all your responsibility from now on._ **

 

As soon as it was decided that Rose would only spend every other weekend at Joseph’s, the frequent fights between Jonathan and her started again.

 

Jonathan claimed he was really angry with his sister, because she couldn’t see how hurt and sad her father was when she pulled crap like not spending any time there.  

 

Those fights then lead to a lot of long talks between Louis and Jonathan, where Louis had to explain that Rose staying full time at Louis’ was mostly his doing. Eventually, it turned out that Jonathan was feeling abandoned by Rose, she’d left him all alone every other week, to deal with things by himself.

 

Louis was awfully worried about Jonathan. About him turning into a Joseph-like character. How adamant he was in defending him and taking his side, was quite alarming to Louis. 

 

On the one hand, Jonathan was a very empathic person, of course he was going to pick up on Joseph’s pain, too. But on the other hand, Louis had a very vivid memory of his own dad once looking at Jonathan - only about six years old at the time - and telling him that it was inevitable, the boy would turn into a violent criminal, just like his other father.  _ ‘It’s in his blood’ _ , he’d said, and now Louis worried that there might be some truth to that statement.      

 

* * *

 

Halfway through October, just after Rose’s thirteenth birthday, the truth happened to come out entirely without Louis’ consent.

 

One minute he was holding onto his decision as hard as ever, and the next he was sitting by the kitchen table with the kids, empty dinner plates in front of them, and pouring out details about the past.

 

At dinner that night, Jonathan started telling about the recurring nightmares he’d been having the past few weeks.

 

At first Louis wasn’t really listening to the details of the story, content with mostly humming along and waiting for the part where he could comfort and give advice.

 

But then some of the details caught his attention - they felt eerily familiar.

 

“And this dream is really vivid, just like the other one,” Jonathan explained. “I can’t really see anything, it’s all dark there, but I can feel a lot. I’m so scared- not for me, for someone else. And I strongly feel like I should protect and help, but I can’t move and I can’t help. I know someone is hurting.”  

 

“Is this all the same dream?” Louis asked hesitantly.

 

“No, it’s more like- a series of dreams.” Jonathan said. “I feel they’re connected, but they’re not the same.”

 

“Can you go back to the one where you’re outside, and tell me more about that?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a weird one. It feels like I’m floating outside, in the dark. But not really floating, I’m more like attached to something, I can’t see what though.” Jonathan started, scrunching his face, like he can’t believe all the madness.

 

Louis knew, had learned from experience, that it’s entirely possible to block out parts of memories because your conscious mind has decided that they’re too painful to deal with. 

 

With horror, he continued to listen to his child tell about his repressed memories.

 

“Then there’s a lot of screaming and banging going on. Someone is screaming and I’m so scared. Like I’m scared of the floating and the dark, and also the banging and screaming.” Jonathan continued, trying to make sense of it all.

 

He’d only been about two years old at the time, of course he didn’t understand most of it. But the memory was still preserved in his subconscious, that much was clear to Louis.  

 

“And then suddenly a door bursts open and strange men are coming for me- I’m so scared.” The boy’s eyes bulged out, as he animatedly described the severity of his feelings.

 

“They take me away and then, after a while, they give me to you. You’re crying and sobbing and I think you might have been the one screaming all along.” Jonathan shook his head sadly, as he looked at Louis.

 

Louis eyes pooled with tears and it took a lot of him not to give into the sobs that were climbing up his throat. Oh god, he’d so hoped that Jonathan had entirely forgotten about this particular occurence.

 

“Don’t cry, Dad, it was just a dream,” Rose tried to comfort, patting Louis gently on the shoulder.

 

“I’m okay,” Louis reassured her with a watery smile, before taking a deep, empowering breath. “But I need to tell you both something- something really difficult. And I need you both to listen to me. Alright?”

 

He gave each of his children a look that marked the gravity of the conversation and sent a thought to every benevolent being in the universe, praying that they could handle hearing the truth.

 

“Jon, honey, I don’t think-” Louis paused. It was no easy task fighting the urge to break down while simultaneously trying to broadcast as much love and comfort as possible to his kids.

 

“I don’t think all of them are dreams, sweetie. It sounds to me, that there might be some memories mixed in there too. I’m so sorry.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Louis took a deep breath, steeling himself.

 

“When- when your father and I were together, some- ehm- some  _ things _ happened. We were both young and stupid and always drank way too much. And your- your father wasn’t always very nice.”

 

Louis could feel the shame automatically climbing up from it’s dark resting place deep within him. Like a demon, it came crawling with its claws and fangs and wrinkly skin, demanding Louis to fall in line and make excuses. It came handing out guilt and excuses like promotional fliers and creating impulses to tone it all down.

 

Louis felt his body start to comply with the demands. His gaze sought surfaces where it was safe from meeting anyone else’s, his shoulders needed to hunch in and his back was just about to lean down, when Louis regained control of his automatic reactions.

 

He took another deep breath, this time breathing in life force from the universe - he could almost see the oxygen rolling in and out with his breath. He sat up a little straighter and looked his kids in the eyes as he let his shoulders fall back, imagining pride and strength flowing around them.

 

He was decisively taking a stand. As crucial as it was to never let Joseph see just how much damage he’d managed to do all those years ago, it was equally important to show the kids that it was entirely possible to rise again, to stand tall and proud. Even after battling demons in hell.

 

Like fucking Gandalf on the bridge, Louis was wielding his metaphorical staff and putting up a fight against this demon.  _ You shall not pass! _

 

“Sometimes, the way he treated me was outright- well, abusive.” Louis let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

“He hit you?” Rose wondered with a not so shocked expression on her face, rage dripping off her words.

 

“There was never really any actual  _ hitting _ going on, but other things counted definitely as physical abuse.” Louis explained, relieved that nobody was screaming or crying yet.

 

“And before you start asking more questions, I need to point out that I am _ so very sorry _ that the both of you had to live through that. And I’m sorry I haven’t told you before, but I was trying to protect you.”

 

“Rosie, you were just a baby, too young to have remembered anything, I think. But Jon, sweetie, you were there quite a few times and I’ve always worried about how much you saw and how much you remembered. I’m so sorry.” Louis pleaded, reaching his hand across the table to grab Jonathan’s unmoving one.

 

While Rose was clearly fuming, fidgeting in her chair and muttering under her breath, Jonathan’s face was blank. No emotion was showing. Oh god. He, too, has perfected the art of not letting anyone see just how much he’s hurting.  

 

“That’s why you always seem to know exactly how he is, when I’m explaining why I’m mad at him.” Rose was putting the pieces together.

 

Louis nodded solemnly.

 

“Is this why you’re in therapy?” Rose questioned.

 

“Partly, yes.”  Louis answered truthfully.

 

Jonathan still hadn’t said a word. He kept looking at Louis with this look on his face that Louis couldn’t deschiffer. Was it mistrust, or disappointment? Betrayal maybe?  

 

“I understand if you want to confront your papa about this, and of course you can -  _ if _ you want to,” Louis told the kids, even if he rather had forbidden them to ever talk about this to anyone. “But please be smart about it. Bring it up in an environment where you’re both safe. Maybe with a therapist or the social services-”

 

“Did he ever hit us?” Jonathan interrupted at the same time as Rose wanted to know if Louis ever reported Joseph.

 

“No, he hasn’t laid a hand on either one of you, not to my knowledge, no.” Louis said carefully. “But your dream, Jon, the one where you were floating outside, I think that’s a memory of the one instance when I  _ did _ call the police.”

 

Louis had hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into further detail about that, but when both kids looked at him expectantly - Jonathan more doubtful than Rose - he just sighed and carried on.

 

He told them as gently as he possibly could, about the time when Joseph had tried to hurt Louis by taking two year old Jonathan out on the balcony and threatened to jump.

 

They had been fighting all night and Joseph had once again thrown Louis around the flat. That had been the time when the oven handle broke by the force of his back colliding with it.

 

None of which he disclosed to the kids.

 

“I was tired of the fighting and I was scared,” he explained instead.  “So I decided to take Jon to Nan’s. And what a stupid decision it turned out to be.”

 

Louis hung his head in disbelief. So many times he’d wished he’d just gone to bed. Or stayed locked inside the bathroom. Because when he’d finished dressing Jonathan in warm clothes and had put him in the stroller to put his own clothes and shoes on, Joseph had grabbed him and gone out on the balcony.

 

“Each time I tried to take Jon back or even step outside, he threatened to jump. I was banging on the door and windows, trying to get him to let you come inside.” Louis said to Jonathan.

 

The asshole was even sitting on the railing for a while, with the kid in his lap. That was another detail Louis left out.  

 

“I was terrified and didn’t know what else to do, but to call the police. Those men in your dream, that took you to me, they were policemen.”

 

Jonathan shut down completely.

 

His entire face just closed off. He shut his mouth and his eyes were void of any emotion, they were just a blank stare.

 

And shit. Louis had revealed a bit more than he meant to, this detail about Jonathan being directly involved was never meant to be out in the open. 

 

Fuck. Louis knew this would happen. He knew it would do more harm than not to talk about this.

 

“Jon? What are you thinking? Talk to me, honey.” Louis pleaded, worry quickly rising in his chest.

 

There was no reaction at all.

 

“Do you want a hug?” Louis stood up to go around the table. “Can I hug you?”

 

Before Louis’ hand touched Jonathan’s shoulder, he stood up from his chair with so much force that the chair went flying at the wall, and stalked away to his room.   

 

In hindsight it might have been smarter to wait until Harry got home to tell the kids these things.

 

* * *

 

The only person allowed into Jonathan’s room was Rose. The only person Jonathan talked to was Rose. The only time Jonathan left his room was when he absolutely had to go to the loo. And even then, he refused to look at anyone or talk to anyone. Rose was bringing him food and drinks and everything.

 

Louis was going absolutely crazy. He needed to know how Jonathan was doing and how to make things right again. 

 

Did he blame himself? Did he get adequate advice when he talked to Rose? Did they even talk about the shit? Was he cutting? Oh my god, he was cutting again, wasn’t he?

 

He tried to communicate with Jonathan several times a day, but was only met with silence and unexpressive eyes. He would send in Harry every chance he got, but the teenager treated him like air.

 

Even Rose was uncharacteristically quiet about what the two of them talked about and how Jonathan was doing. She refused to reveal anything, even when Louis begged and tried to bribe her. Damn the loyalties.

 

“I’m a horrible person,” he whined to Harry one night as they were going to bed.

 

“No you’re not,” Harry sighed, closing the bedroom door.

 

They had had this exact conversation every day for the four days since Jonathan shut everyone out. Everyone but Rose.

 

“But I hurt him,” Louis huffed and flopped down on his side of the bed, “Deliberately!”

 

“You did not-” Harry was interrupted by the door opening again and a pyjama clad Jonathan flinging himself into Louis’ lap, hugging him tightly.

 

It’s a good thing Louis was laying down already, otherwise he would have fallen over.

 

“I’ll just go brush my teeth,” Harry mumbled in the distance. “Again.”

 

“I don’t want to be angry anymore.” Jonathan sniveled into Louis’ neck.

 

Louis’ eyes were prickling with tears. “Okay, I don’t want you to be angry anymore either. Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly.

 

“No. I just want to lie here with you for a while.”

 

“Okay. It’s okay.” Louis started crying and shaking as he lied on the bed, stroking Jonathan’s hair and holding him tightly. Relief flooded him and he just had to let it all out.

 

He didn’t know how long they were crying and hugging for, Jonathan mumbling a few pained  _ I’m sorry’s  _ and Louis reassuring him that everything was fine, they were going to be fine.

 

Eventually, Harry came in the room again and Jonathan sat up and tried to wipe all the snot away. Louis pointed him to the roll of toilet paper on the bedside chair.

 

“I love you, you know that right?” Louis asked. Despite his voice being thick from all the crying, he already sounded a lot happier than before.

 

“Yeah, you tell me that every day. I never even get the chance to forget,” Jonathan joked, eyes rimmed red and snot drying on his cheek.

 

“Okay.” Louis laughed. “I love you. Always.”

 

“I love you too,” Jonathan said in the doorway, leaving the bedroom.  

 

“I love you too,” Harry smiled carefully at Louis, as he climbed into bed. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. I’m okay- We’re okay.”

 

* * *

 

They talked about it all once more, with Harry present as well and with additional advice from Louis’ therapist.

 

Jonathan asked all the questions that he had and Louis tried to answer them as mildly as he was capable of.

 

Harry interjected several times when unnecessary details slipped and steered the conversation in the direction of how to heal lingering damage and how to handle future situations, should they come up.

 

The kids decided that they didn’t particularly want to confront their papa at this point. They wanted the knowledge to sink in first and then maybe get outside help to talk about it.

 

When it was time for Jonathan to leave for the week at their papa’s. Rose went with him. Just for a day or two, she promised.  

 

“Okay, but you call me if you need me.” Louis didn’t want either of them going there again. Ever. 

 

“Or better yet, you just come home again, if things get the least bit difficult. That goes for both of you. You just come home, any time. Okay? Promise me that?”

 

“I promise,” Jonathan hugged Louis. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Fucking hell. Louis had survived a lot of shit. A lot. And now he was going to die of worry for his kids going to their other parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, in real life, I haven’t revealed the truth to my kids. I’m still too scared. But I imagine this is how it would go. And I’m so ashamed for even writing it in this chapter.


	25. The Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:**  
>  Brief mention of emotional trauma.
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Dream On - Aerosmith  
> I Wanna Write You A Song - One Direction  
> The Edge Of Tonight - All Time Low  
> Wake Me Up - Avicii
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  
> 
> That last song wasn’t the original choice for this chapter, but I was inspired by yesterday’s display of emotion and wanted to include the song on the playlist. 
> 
> Did you see the pics? HQ’s of those beautiful blue eyes shining with tears. Fuck. 
> 
> I’m loving the fact that on Saturday we all fell in love with Louis again, and yesterday we collectively cried when he was emotional. 
> 
> I love this fandom. Thank you all, for being a part of it and creating a safe space for everyone. <3
> 
> And thank you for reading my story. There’s only one chapter after this (+ the epilogue at a later date). 
> 
> Thank you so much. I love you all. <3
> 
>  

 

Things in the Tomlinson household were muted and fragile while the weeks passed and autumn turned into winter. It was a cold winter this time, frosty and pale.

 

Jonathan was not his usual self. He gradually turned more and more silent, choosing to distance himself from everything and everyone. 

 

Dutifully, he still changed homes every week and divided his time between both parents. The time he needed to gather himself and leave on friday afternoons, increased every week. 

 

Every time Louis kept reminding him that he could stay, he didn’t have to leave. And every time Jonathan kept declining the offer. The phrase “No, I’m going,” was always delivered with a hint of aggression in the dejected demeanor.

 

Louis didn’t know how to stop him or how to change his mind. All he could do was to watch his son sink further into depression each day. Because that was what it was. 

 

The signs of depression were very familiar to Louis. He knew he couldn’t do much to lessen the lethargic emptiness that he was sure Jonathan was experiencing, but he could damn well do the things he usually needed from someone when his own depression hit the deeper lows.

 

So Louis went all mama bear on the situation and catered to Jonathan’s every need - actual and imaginary -  his own health be damned. He made sure that Jonathan ate, often cooking his favourite meals and making his favourite snacks. The lack of eating was actually one of the first signs Louis picked up on - the kid had stopped rummaging through the fridge twenty times a day, something had to be wrong.

 

Louis tried to suggest outfits to wear and made sure that clean clothes were always easily accessible in the closet. When Jonathan only wore one outfit for most of the time, Louis snuck into his room every few nights to collect and wash the outfit. 

 

They had fights about that. More than once. Apparently it’s a damn crime against human rights to provide your kid with clean clothes.

 

Louis even let Jonathan go for weekend visits to the girl he’d met, in order to keep his life from feeling completely hopeless.

 

This extensive focus on Jonathan took away from some of the attention Rose deserved. She was hurting too, not only in the knowledge of what her father was capable of, but because she felt abandoned by him.

 

Harry, the golden angel that he was, took it upon himself to at least make sure that Rose didn’t feel abandoned here, at their home. They were often doing things, just the two of them. Together they spent time doing fun stuff, as well as making sure that there was food in the house and that the dishes were done.

 

They must be made of the same stars, those two.

 

Both of them made sure the household kept running like a well oiled machine. They stepped up and took on the work that Louis and Jonathan had failed to do or see. Just like a family should. Without whining or demanding that everyone pulled their own weight.

 

Louis found himself in awe of experiencing a real support system, like it was supposed to be. 

 

Harry really was carrying his children when Louis didn’t have enough arms, just like he once said he would.

 

Rose was so strong through it all. She seemed content with having Louis to herself every other week, when Jonathan was at their father’s. Time and again, Louis was amazed by the maturity and clarity of her thoughts about everything.

 

While Jonathan was empathetic and really understanding of their father’s side of things, Rose was able to see the same thing while creating healthy boundaries and stating her limit.

 

Louis didn’t know if it was her natural wisdom, or if Harry was sharing his knowledge and stealthily training her to be a psychologist, that made her so incredibly wise and strong.

 

In the midst of one of the hardest things they had to go through as a family, Louis found himself experiencing deep and true happiness.

 

Because just like depression rarely is constant sadness, but more emptiness and hopelessness, happiness is mostly feelings of contentment and security rather than only joy and smiley faces.  

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know how to dream,” Louis whined pitifully and buried his face in his hands.

 

“Me neither,” Jonathan agreed under his breath and reached across the table for the juice jug.

 

Harry groaned, threw his hands in the air in a surrendering demeanor and declared himself done with everything as he stomped out of the room.

 

Rose glared angrily at Louis from across the table. On the table between them was a cake with a few lit candles, that was the cause of all this drama.   

 

Louis’ birthday, Christmas and the annual New Years party had already come and gone peacefully. 

 

This was the celebration cake for Louis sober anniversary, which Harry had sweetly and sneakily acquired for the occasion.

 

In a thoughtful manner, Harry had surprised Louis with this small party, the only participants being the kids and Harry himself - which was three more people than usually celebrated the most important date of the year. 

 

And now Louis had fucked it up by not being able to articulate any wish or dream he had when Harry wanted him to blow out the candles - one for each year he’d been sober.

 

With a heavy heart, and more aggressively than he meant to, Louis slid back the chair and went after Harry.

 

“Wait! Dad, before-” Rose shouted. “Can we start with the cake now? Who knows how long you need to apologise.”  

 

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Harry was lying on his back on the bed when Louis entered their bedroom. He quickly wiped his eyes and closed them with a shaky exhale.

 

“H, what’s making you this upset?” Louis asked quietly as he clumsily climbed over Harry and laid down beside him.

 

“Is it really that horrible that I haven’t more elaborate goals in life, than being harmonious and seeing my family happy and healthy?”

 

Carefully he inched closer to Harry and pressed his nose to his hair. “I’m sorry for that,” he whispered, trying to convey just how sorry he was in the midst of the disbelief and annoyance that Harry’s somewhat uncalled for emotional reaction had brought forth.

 

Harry exhaled loudly and leaned into Louis’ cuddles. 

 

“It’s- I’m not really upset about the fact that you don’t have more concrete dreams. It’s the reason  _ why _ , that makes me sad and angry.”  

 

While Harry nuzzled Louis neck, he talked about how the inability to dream and the lack of goals and future plans was commonly found in abuse survivors and people who’d suffered emotional neglect.

 

“It hurts so bad,” Harry’s muffled voice said, and Louis’ heart ached for him as he hugged him closer. “Knowing that all the shit you’ve gone through still affects your life to such large extent.”

 

“And then add Jonathan to it.” Harry continued. “Same symptoms, same shit, and I can’t do anything about it.” 

 

He grew more and more agitated as he spoke and Louis tried to comfort him the best he could.

 

“It frustrates me that you don’t even realise that’s the case. This is just something normal to you. And I know it’s not your fault, but it still hurts, Lou. I love you so much. And I love Jon and Rose. It’s difficult to deal with the fact that the ones I love the most are hurting so much.”

 

Yeah, Louis knew all about helplessly watching the ones you loved get hurt.

 

“Sometimes I don’t know how to help. I want to help you all so much.” Harry was on the verge of tears again, if the defeated tone was anything to go by.

 

“I’m sorry, darling.” Louis kissed Harry on the top of his head. 

 

“You are helping, you know that. You’re helping so much, every day. I’m so grateful to have met you. I thank the gods and the demons every day for bringing you to me.”

 

Harry snorted and leaned away to look Louis in the eyes. “The demons too, huh?”

 

“Yeah, especially the demons,” Louis smiled as the immense gratitude filled him. 

 

“You know what? Some days I’m actually thankful for all the shit I’ve gone through,” he stated. “Not that I would ever choose it again, but there’s no denying that I’ve learned so much. I can give Jonathan the support he deserves, way better now than I would’ve been able had I lived a sheltered life.

 

“I’m so proud of you.” Harry’s eyes shone with love, pride and tears.

 

“Maybe I need to be taught how to dream?” Louis wondered out loud, but mostly to himself. “We could talk about your dreams, and see if I get any ideas?”  

 

Harry mulled it over for a moment.

 

“Sure, I could help you dream,” he said. “Did you know that your self-esteem is heightened by planning for your future and seeing yourself in a better place than now?”

 

As Louis shook his head to answer, Harry started talking about his plans for work, places he wanted to visit, books he wanted to read and things like that.  

 

Louis listened intently and when the long list of Harry’s dreams and plans started to dwindle down, he spoke up.

 

“And you want to have a baby,” he stated and hoped it didn’t come out sounding bitter.

 

Harry went quiet.

 

“I- Well, n-not necessarily,” was his weak defense.

 

“Oh, come on H.” Louis shifted to lean up on his elbow and let his gaze pierce into the depth of Harry’s eyes. Not unkindly or accusingly, but with loving knowledge and acceptance. 

 

“I see the way you light up like a thousand stars whenever a baby is nearby. Everyone can see that. At new years poor Steve and Neyla had to leave early because you were hogging their child the entire evening.”

 

“They did  _ not _ leave because of that.” Harry was affronted.

 

Louis giggled.

 

“Maybe not. But I know one of your dreams is to have a baby of your own. To be a father.” He smiled down at Harry.   

 

“Yeah, alright. But it’s not an important dream.” Harry relented with a watery smile. “There are a lot of babies around us. I can borrow them from time to time. Besides, I plan on co-parenting your kids with you.”  

 

Warmth blossomed in Louis’ chest. “You already are, love. You already are,” he said with a bright smile and leaned down to kiss Harry. “And I love you so much for that.”

 

They spent a while exchanging kisses, until a thought came to Louis.

 

“Is this a good time to talk about the fact that I want you to officially and completely move in with us?” He asked.  

 

Harry’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “See, you  _ do _ have dreams and plans!”

 

“Well, if you want to call that a dream.” Louis smiled. “You’re pretty much already living here. The kids always ask if you don’t have any other place to live.”

 

“That I am.” Harry laughed.

 

“But seriously, I do want to start planning a life together with you. For real.”  

 

“Me too, baby. You know I’m in this for the long haul, and I would very much like to start making long term plans and changes.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Louis and Harry returned to the kitchen, it was empty. The anniversary candles were blown out and the cake was messily hollowed out on two sides.

 

Harry burst out laughing. “Did they dig into this with their spoons from opposite sides?”

 

“Mm, I’ve seen weirder things.”

 

Louis lit the candles again and turned to Harry. 

 

“Thank you so much for this. I didn’t even know I needed someone to acknowledge the importance of this day.”

 

* * *

 

Despite the fact that Louis’ prolonged exposure treatment had finished a long time ago, he continued his sessions with his psychologist on a weekly basis.

 

The issue at hand was almost always how to help Jonathan deal with things, but every now and again Louis noticed himself healing and getting a little bit better. 

 

Johnny, the therapist, had a way of sneaking in relevant information and methods when Louis thought he was only rambling and whining.

 

Louis spent a lot of time pondering things - observing, thinking and coming up with conclusions.

 

For weeks - or months, really - he’d been puzzled about the fact that almost every time he was out of town, he was mostly anxiety free. 

 

He could carelessly saunter along the streets of London, ride trains and buses and spend hours upon hours in busy crowds, without the slightest hint of anxiety spiking up - yet, at home, he still had difficulties going outside without first spending a lot of time preparing and talking himself up.

 

At their last therapy session Louis had brought this up. After talking it over, his therapist’s opinion was that perhaps a larger part of what they’d originally pinned as Louis’ social anxiety was connected to the PTSD. Perhaps a lot of Louis’ hometown was so ingrained with bad memories that he was more or less in a constant state of triggered.

 

Louis had groaned at that, and quickly declined the offer to start another round of exposure therapy. A new round of that would only come about if it was the last resort.

 

* * *

 

“It makes sense.” Louis said later that night, when he and Harry crawled under the covers. “Joseph used to always say that he knew what I was up to. He always knew.”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

 

“Well, he would accuse me of things. Sometimes these accusations came with details, like what I was wearing or who I was with. Other times he was talking complete bullshit. He  would never reveal his source, though, only that someone had told him this and that.” Louis sighed.

 

Harry sighed too. “And that meant that you couldn’t trust anyone. There were invisible spies everywhere, reporting back to him,”  he stated in understanding.

 

“Yeah.” Louis agreed and laid his head on Harry’s chest, listening to the soothing rhythm of his heart. 

 

That night the start of a real dream entered Louis’ thoughts.

 

A vision of a beautiful house, far away in an unknown town. A house with an inviting garden, leafy and lush, filled with gorgeous perennials and cute fruit trees.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left. :'( 
> 
> Leave your comments!


	26. The Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have come to the end of this story, then. This is the last chapter. 
> 
> I do have an epilogue planned, and even though it's mostly written already, I don't want to publish it quite yet.  
> The reason for that is that with the epilogue there's a chance to fill in with details on situations that need more clarification or closure. 
> 
> Please tell me if there's anything you feel I've overlooked and should explain in more detail. 
> 
> I'm planning on publishing this story as a real book. The fanfic version is sort of a test drive, to gain knowledge of how I can make it as good as I possibly can. So please help me out here, by giving your honest opinions. 
> 
> Thank you. <3 
> 
>  
> 
> The songs for this chapter are:  
> Monday Morning - Melanie Fiona  
> Runaway Train - Soul Asylum  
> A Thousand Years - Christina Perri  
> What A Feeling - One Direction
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/magnoliamoon2204/playlist/66kCGmXweg6LMihZ79jLLw?si=p3GlXRg5RNuE9Jk_Qbwv7w
> 
>  
> 
> The epilogue will be up in about 2-3 weeks.
> 
>  

 

The summer approached fast, months rapidly flying into whatever ether time usually disappeared to.

 

With summer came Jonathan’s graduation and 18th birthday. Louis was in the middle of composing the shopping list for the party they were having the next weekend when his phone went off with a series of texts arriving.

 

They were all from Jonathan. His specialty was sending multiple messages with only a few words in each.

 

_ We need to talk. _

 

_ It’s important. _

 

_ Papa is prolly going to call you. _

 

_ He’s angry af. _

 

“Wow. Correct punctuation really does make texts sound angry.” Louis turned to Harry in comic disbelief.

 

“What?” Harry stopped his humming from where he was watering the plants in the kitchen window.

 

“The kids always claim that I sound so angry when texting, because I use correct grammar. Rules of the universe and what not.” Louis shook his head with a worried smile as he responded with several questions about the how’s, when’s and why’s.

 

“Oh.” Harry snickered. “It’s probably the same universal rules that got me told off for writing ‘okay’ with the letters O and K.”

 

Louis nodded absentmindedly while he was staring at his phone in anticipation of a response from Jonathan, but before he got any, Joseph was already calling him.

 

Louis took a deep breath as he answered. When he was met with an angry voice and a forceful stream of words - pretty much the auditive equivalence to a wall of text - he knew this was going to take a while. 

 

He sighed and signaled to Harry that he’d go into the bedroom so he could close the door behind him - talking on the phone was usually easier when he was by himself in a closed off space.  

 

A few minutes of listening to the somewhat incoherent accusations of how Louis had corrupted both the children, he was starting to be able to string together bits and pieces of what his ex husband was saying.

 

Louis felt the colour drain from his face as dread pooled in his stomach. Everything inside his chest turned to ice. He zoned out, the voice on the phone turned into a distant buzzing. The tears were impossible to hold back and because of that, he didn’t dare open his mouth in response. There was an impending risk of a wobbly voice and he would never freely give away his vulnerability to Joseph. Not even a little bit. Not even when his ex husband was clearly feeling the same dread and worry as Louis.

 

“Are you going to do something? Talk some sense into him. We have to stop him and these stupid ideas.”

 

Louis heard when he returned to reality. He prayed to the universe that his voice would be steady as he answered.

 

“No.” He said with more force than he meant to. “I’m going to support him and his decision.”

 

He may be shocked and angry and maybe a little bit sad, but he did recognise what potential this situation held. This was Jonathan breaking free and starting his own healing. There was not a chance in this life, or any other, that Louis would stand in way of that.

 

“What? You can’t be serious.”

 

“I am. I am going to support him, no matter what. If he decides he wants this, I’m not going to stand in his way.”

 

“Louis.” Joseph’s voice turned steely and calm in a way Louis knew far too well. This was his  _ ‘I’m calm and sensible, you’re the hysterical and unreasonable one’ _ -voice. This was the voice that you should be afraid of, not the loud yelling and arguing. 

 

“Did you put him up to this? Why are you turning my children away from me?”   

 

“No, Joseph.” Louis was surprised by the strength and steadiness he felt. It was an unyielding force, radiating from his core, making him sit up a little bit straighter and lift his chin a little bit higher. 

 

The edge of defense and accusation left his voice, as he completely withdrew his own burden and guilt from the situation. “ _ You _ did that all by yourself. You need to take responsibility for once. I can’t do that for you. Not anymore.”

 

With that, Louis hung up the phone and turned it off completely. He sat in that weird feeling of serenity for a long time, trying to make sense of what just happened.  

 

* * *

 

Jonathan was unloading the dishwasher when Louis emerged from his bedroom. Which - what?

 

“Who are you and where’s my son?” Louis mumbled humorlessly, a hint of anger seeping into his voice, as he walked past him to sit by the table.

 

“I’m almost an adult, Dad, I don’t need to be told to do chores all the time anymore.” Jonathan replied jokingly, clearly amping up the playfulness.

 

“Well,  _ almost adult _ , right now you need to sit your arse down on that chair and talk to me.” Louis said in a clipped tone that left no room for arguments and pointed to the chair opposite of him. 

 

“And go get Harry and your sister, because this is now a family meeting.”

 

When Jonathan sat down a few moments later, it was with a pinched look of obstinate defiance. It was uncanny how much he looked like Joseph when he was like this. Sometimes he looked like Louis’ little, sweet boy, and sometimes he was just a younger, skinnier version of his father.

 

Once Harry and Rose had shuffled in and sat down, both cautiously curious, Louis asked Jonathan to explain himself.

 

“I’ve decided to move- and you and papa can’t stop me because I’ll be 18. I have to leave.” The almost-adult rushed to say.

 

Harry gasped audibly at the statement and gave Louis an alarmed look.

 

“I’m- I’m not,” Louis deflated. His anger obviously put Jonathan in a defencive mode. 

 

“I’m not going to stop you. But I  _ am angry _ with you and would like to know your plans and why the hell you kept them a secret.”

 

“You’re not?” Jonathan’s eyes widened in surprise and he sat up a little straighter before leaning on his elbows over the table, slumping down a bit in relief.

 

Harry too made a noise of surprise, while Rose was sitting quietly staring down at the table.  _ Oh. _ She probably already knew, then.

 

Louis shook his head, and tried to make his mouth turn into something resembling an encouraging smile.

 

“Okay.” Jonathan relaxed and smiled. “Well, I’ve been accepted to Bristol- thought I’d try and see if I get along with the place. I’ve also gotten a job over the summer. At a music store. So- uhh- I’m leaving on Monday,” he stated.

 

“Monday? But what about your party?”

 

“I don’t want a party. Don’t need one. Haven’t got time for one.”  

 

“But I want to celebrate my baby.” Louis heard the desperate whininess in his voice. He didn’t do well with sudden changes of plans. “Can’t you at least wait until after the party?”

 

“No, I’ve already bought tickets. And I start working on Tuesday.”

 

When Louis nodded his head in acknowledgement, it felt heavy.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought we’d decided that you’d go to Doncaster college, that it was a done deal? What happened to living at home to save some money?”

 

“I can’t-” Jonathan hesitated and looked away. “I can’t stay here anymore, I need to get away.”

 

That confirmed Louis’ suspicions, Jonathan was going for his freedom.

 

“I understand,” he said, noticing the encouraging nod Rose gave her brother. 

 

“So you what? Applied in secret? That’s something I don’t understand. What are you even going to study?”

 

“I.. yeah,” Jonathan fidgeted and Harry put a calming hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t want to risk anyone trying to prevent me from going.” He then looked up at Louis, pleading, “I can’t stay here anymore, Dad. I’ll die!”

 

“Jon... I would never try to talk you out of something you want to do for yourself.”

 

“No, not  _ you- _ ” Jonathan’s mouth formed a thin line as he decisively was not continuing that sentence. He didn’t have to, they all knew what the end of that sentence looked like.

 

Jonathan cleared his throat.

 

“I’m going to study psychology and sociology. I- I want to understand. And I want to help- uhh- like people who are self harming. And who have been abused.”

 

Louis felt so much pride he almost started crying.

 

“Where are you going to live? I don’t have money for rent, Jon.”

 

“I do,” Harry piped up from his corner at the table. Louis glared at him. 

 

Jonathan and Rose snickered. They’ve had conversations about Harry so freely spending money on Louis and the kids and how that made Louis uncomfortable.

 

“That’s why I have a job.” Jonathan said. “I’ve applied for student housing. And until then, I’ll be sharing a flat with my friend Oscar. He helped me get the job. The store is right around the corner from the flat.”

 

“And you did all this by yourself? I’m so proud of you.” Louis stated as Jonathan nodded in answer to his question. “It seems that you  _ are  _ almost an adult,” he smiled and went around the table to hug his son.

 

“I’m not happy that you’re leaving me, but I  _ am _ happy that you’re following your own path. You’re so, so brave and I’m always very proud of you. Don’t you forget that.” he said and kissed the top of Jonathan’s head.

 

“I guess we’d better start packing, then.”

 

* * *

 

The first four months of living away from home, Jonathan wanted to be left alone.

 

There were occasional phone calls and the weekly texts just to make sure he was still alive and didn’t need anything.

 

The distance and the  _ distancing _ was pretty much killing Louis. He spent a lot of that time crying in Harry’s arms, because he felt like his son had been ripped away in a sense. 

 

He wasn’t prepared for that change, and it hurt. He was also worried, so worried. What if something happened and he wasn’t there to help. Or what if something happened and Jonathan was too afraid to call home.

 

Harry was being the patient, comforting angel that he usually was, making Louis fall more and more in love with him every day.

 

* * *

 

The last of October, in the middle of what Harry called the Samhain celebration, all three of them decided to go on a road trip to see Jonathan. When Jonathan was notified the reaction wasn’t as delighted as the rest of them, but he didn’t protest either.

 

At the crack of dawn on November 1st, Louis, Harry and Rose left for Bristol. 

 

Harry excitedly chattered on about Samhain magic at the dawn, something, something - Louis was too tired and too ecstatic at the thought of being able hug his son later that day, to listen to any of that.  

 

Louis and Harry hadn’t been on many trips during the almost two years they’d known each other, but they had developed a habit of choosing to drive on the smaller, countryside roads whenever they were on one. 

 

This trip was not an exception - meaning it was a slower and longer journey. This one was supposed to take about four hours, not counting stops.

 

Three and something hours later Louis was driving when Harry suddenly gasped and demanded to stop the car. He was sitting on the passenger side, both hands and face plastered to the window.

 

“Stop the car, Lou, stop the car!” There was an urgency in his voice, as he repeated his demand.

 

“What is it?” Louis asked as he pulled over and shut off the ignition.

 

“Look.” Harry’s nose was still touching the window, amazement evident in his voice. Then he seemed to understand that the car had stopped. He quickly unbuckled his belt, opened the door and stumbled out.

 

The door closed with such a force that Rose woke from her nap.

 

“I’m just stepping outside for a moment,” Louis addressed his daughter and stepped out of the car.

 

Harry was already wandering on the side of the road, seemingly mesmerised.

 

“Harry!” Louis yelled.

 

“Look.” Harry stopped and pointed. Louis followed his gaze. He was looking at a small house with a ‘for sale’-sign in front of it.

 

The house didn’t really look like much, with it’s sharp edges and dirty looking bricks. It was tiny, more like a cottage than anything. 

 

The garden was mostly brown and withered, matching the bricks on the house - which were something between grey and brown in colour. The door was painted green, completely mismatched with the blue window shutters.

 

Yet, Louis could understand why Harry was so mesmerised by this house. It had something- something special that spoke loud and clear. Harry was obviously drawn to it, and so was Louis.

 

While they stood there staring dumbly at the unremarkable house, Rose sauntered up to them.

 

“What are we doing?” she asked, just as a woman walked out from behind the house. She was probably in her sixties and from the looks of it, she’d been doting about in the garden.

 

The woman noticed the three standing in a row at the side of the road, staring stupidly. She waved them over and started talking happily.

 

It turned out she was moving into the city to be closer to her newborn grandchild and was selling the house. The lady complained that she’d had the house on the market for the better part of a year. People came looking to buy, but they always wanted a bigger house, with all their plans of raising a large family.

 

She invited them in to look around. It was as small as it looked, only two bedrooms. But everything about the house felt right - inviting and familiar somehow. Homey and just right. Louis had no other way of describing it.

 

Harry was delighted, asking all sorts of questions about the house and the neighbours - of which there were a handful out here. Most people that lived close by were located in the small village, a fifteen minute walk further down the road towards Bristol.  

 

Rose made herself comfortable in front of the small fireplace. Louis watched her relax as she enjoyed the crackle of the fire.

 

“Gosh, I want to live here,” she sighed.

 

“Really?” Harry whipped his head around so fast that it was comical. Louis burst out laughing.

 

“Well, yeah. It’s cosy and nice. Jon doesn’t live at home anymore, so we don’t even need more room.”   

 

Harry gave Louis a speculative look. He knew the question without it being articulated. A whirlwind of emotion filled Louis. That would usually prompt him to panic a bit, to retreat to isolation and sort his feelings out privately, before most likely backing out completely.

 

But Harry’s gaze was steady and promising. The only question within his eyes was the one Louis decided to answer with a nod and a small smile.

 

Harry turned to the lady and started asking about the price. Louis sat down next to Rose, asking her if she really was sure and if she understood what a move would entail.

 

“Well, we’re absolutely, definitely interested.” Louis heard Harry say with finality a little while later. “Could we have your contact information? And maybe come back with our son in a few days, so he can see the house as well?”

 

Louis melted at Harry calling Jonathan  _ ‘our son’ _ .

 

* * *

 

The 8th of January seemed to be the recurring date that really restarted Louis’ life. One January 8th he’d stopped drinking. Another January 8th Harry had shown him how important it was to celebrate the day with loved ones.

 

On the early morning of this January 8th the movers packed the truck and left with all of the combined belongings of the Tomlinson-Styles family.

 

Louis and Harry watched them drive away as they waited for Steve to come collect the keys to the empty flat and drop them off at the landlord’s later.

 

They’d already said their goodbyes to family and friends. The New Year’s party a rough week earlier had been more of a farewell party than anything else.

 

Louis’s group of friends had unanimously decided to abandon their rotation schedule and have the party at Louis’ flat again. Louis’ and Harry’s siblings were invited too, although only Alice and Erin had come. The evening was mostly spent with everyone reliving memories from their times together and making Louis, Harry and the kids promise that nothing would change, except their living situation.

 

It had also been the first time Louis followed the crowd outside to watch the fireworks. He hadn’t been ashamed of the tears in his eyes, as Harry kissed him and wished him a happy new year. He couldn’t keep the same tears from rolling down his cheeks when Harry had gathered Jonathan and Rose in his arms and told them how much he loved them both.

 

It had been a good party, sad in a different way than Louis was used to.

 

Eventually, everything was handled and in order. They were ready to leave. The four of them piled into the car and left for their new home town.

 

As they drove through the familiar streets, Louis was struck with an immense feeling of relief, mixed with the same anticipation of freedom he imagined Jonathan felt when he left that past summer.

 

Logically he knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw these streets, he’d come to visit, but it felt like he was leaving for good. He didn’t belong here anymore. This wasn’t home anymore.

 

* * *

 

The time they spent unpacking everything was the most fun Louis remembered ever having.

 

His beautiful Harry was so hilarious, joking around and coming up with quirky solutions to some of the issues that arose. 

 

For example, Louis discovered that he wanted a small shelf of some sort on the kitchen counter. Harry dug around in boxes and in the shed out back, and came up with two old, thick books, to which he glued a wooden plank and presented as a shelf. It was perfect.

 

Rose and Harry made it a habit to gang up on Louis, teasing him or pulling pranks. This lead to him calling Jonathan at odd times of the day, asking for moral backup.

 

Jonathan, although busy at school, would just cackle and play along. Louis was happy that his playfulness was back. Perhaps his depression was starting to lift.

 

One afternoon there was just the two of them at home, as Rose was out exploring the little village they’d ended up in. She wanted to see if she could find some place to hang out and look for friends.

 

Louis watched Harry as he hummed along and danced a little to the playlist he had on, while folding towels and putting them away.

 

The amount of love he felt for the man was overwhelming. And suddenly he was so sure. So sure of their love for each other, so sure of himself and his abilities. So sure that he’d always want to do anything for Harry. He’d always want to give anything to Harry, _ his _ Harry.

 

When he looked up and saw Louis watching, he gave him one of his blinding smiles. Louis felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes - god, what a cryer he was nowadays. But he couldn’t help it, not now. Not when it really was earth shattering, the amount of emotion he was feeling, and the thoughts he was thinking.

 

Harry’s smile fell off his face, no doubt because of his worry for Louis emotional state. He dropped the towel in his hands and hurried over.

 

“Lou, what’s the matter?”

 

Louis took Harry’s face in both hands and kissed him as deeply and lovingly as he was capable of. Because there were no longer any doubts of anything in his mind. Harry was his soulmate, Harry loved him back just as much as he loved Harry.

 

They were in this together, for the rest of their lives, he was sure of that, so sure. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didnt give into the persistent desire to do his best to give Harry everything he dreamed of.

 

New tears were constantly forming as Louis drew back and looked deep into Harry’s eyes.  

 

As he whispered the words, he saw the emotion in those green eyes change from worried, to confused, to happy, and soon they were just as tearful as Louis’.

 

“I want to give you a baby, H. Let’s have a baby.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for making Louis a cryer, but that's only because I wish I could let my own tears fall every time they needed to, just as bravely as Louis does in this story.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Really, I can't explain the depth of my gratitude. Thank you for reading, for commenting, for bookmarking, for leaving kudos and for subscribing. 
> 
> If you feel inclined to share this, please do so. 
> 
> Thank you. <3


	27. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at this. I managed to finish the epilogue that's been almost done since september last year. :) 
> 
> Now, this is not beta-ed, so please let me know if you find any grammatical errors or weirdness of any kind. 
> 
> While I was finishing this epilogue a lot of new ideas popped up, so now I have outlined three different timestamps! (Cried myself crazy over one of them yesterday.)

Epilogue

 

When Louis counted the decades of his life, it was always with a mix of sorrow and contentment. There were almost five of them now, decades of his life to reminisce about. 

 

No matter how much Louis healed and moved on, he couldn’t help the sorrow setting into his bones whenever he thought about the first half of his life, almost three full decades that had had to be so difficult. There was a tinge of sadness due to another decade or so wasted on healing. 

 

This last decade though - the one with Harry steadily holding his hand and tenderly holding his heart - filled Louis with so much happiness and contentment that the memories created during this last decade overshadowed all of the horrible ones.

 

Louis had a habit of trying to find meaning in the things he’d gone through. Perhaps he needed the understanding and empathy those difficult years had given him. He had three children to give his guidance and support to - what he had learned through healing from abuse, definitely made him a better parent.  

 

While Jonathan and Rose were both adults now, Louis’ youngest child was only five. 

 

Willow was biologically Harry’s, which wasn’t lost on anyone who saw the mop of unruly dark curls (usually somewhat contained in a messy ponytail) and the deep serenity found in her big round, hazel eyes. It was like she knew things other people didn’t. Like she’d been here before and had only returned to supervise things and make sure they were running smoothly.

 

Even though the five year old radiated serenity and knowledge, she was full of mischief and untethered curiosity. And she was strong-willed and stubborn, just like Rose. 

 

Right now, for instance, she was sulking under the kitchen table, refusing to even look at Louis. He knew it would probably be best to leave her be, but a little more coaxing wouldn’t hurt.

 

“Do you want to help to set the table, love?” Louis crouched down to get a peek under the table. The moping girl glared daggers at him, huffed and turned to face the other way.

 

Louis gave a slightly amused sigh and went back to dinner preparations. 

 

She’d confide in Harry when he got home and once someone had heard the story about why she was angry - other than the person she was mad at - she’d be making sure Louis knew how much she still loved him. 

 

The rest of the family were on their way back from London. Harry and Jonathan had attended a seminar for the past few days and had picked up Rose on their way home. Christmas was a few days away and for the week to come, the whole family would be home. Louis was very excited about that. 

 

Rose lived in London, just like she had decided all those years ago. She was currently getting her degree in psychology, same as her brother, and didn’t really have time to come home that much. Which was probably for the best, since Willow was now moved into her old room. Even though the smaller girl happily shared her bed, the house was really small and easily crowded. 

 

Louis was still very, very excited to have access to each and every one of his kids for a week. An entire week!

 

Jonathan had graduated a few years back and was now working with Harry in his practice in the city. He had plans on opening his own business as soon as the time was right. He wanted to tweak the field of therapy he was offering, so it would be just right for what he envisioned.

 

Jonathan had had a rough time those first couple of years after moving to Bristol. He had fought his own demons and eventually decided to cut all ties with his father. Then he’d attracted a lot of broken people into his life, whom he wanted to play saviour for, but who ended up dragging him down with them. 

 

You can’t ever save anyone, you can only allow people to save themselves and sometimes that’s done by backing away completely.

 

The front door opened and Louis could hear Willow’s curious shuffling under the table. 

 

“That’s Daddy with Jon and Rosie, go say hello to them sweetie,” Louis encouraged the five year old. A loud huff was what he got for an answer and then the shuffling stilled. So stubborn for such a small child. 

 

A moment later Harry stepped into the kitchen while Rose and Jon headed for the living room, bickering about who would get to sleep on the sofa bed and who would get to share Willows room. 

 

Louis greeted Harry with a lingering peck on the lips before Harry drew him in for a tight hug, burying his face in Louis’ neck and breathing him in. 

 

There was some more sounds of a five year old wriggling around under the table. 

 

“Hmmm… Something is missing…” Harry drawled, voice loud and playful, as he let go of the embrace. He walked around aimlessly in the kitchen, lifting at things and moving the chairs. 

 

“Where’s my little wild child?” He asked loudly. “I swear I left her here with you, Lou. Have you seen her?” 

 

Muffled giggling was heard from under the table.    
  
“Wait! I heard something!” Harry said with exaggerated urgency mixing in with his huge smile. 

 

He knocked carefully on the kitchen table and a louder stream of giggles erupted. A few lighter knocks came as a response and then a happy little girl crawled eagerly out from under the table. “I’m here Daddy, I’m here,” she giggled.    

 

Louis smiled widely as Harry picked up their daughter and hugged her close. Love and admiration flooded his chest as he basked in the feeling of pure happiness. He loved how beautifully Harry and their daughter interacted, how much love flowed between the two. 

 

Harry sat down on a chair, Willow still clinging to his neck in a tight hug, as Jonathan and Rose entered the kitchen. Both went to hug Louis and he was bursting with love and happiness. 

 

All his children were here. Harry was here. And Louis was so, so happy. He couldn’t help but smile. His entire face was probably going to hurt at the end of the day, but it would all be worth it. 

 

“Let me have a look at you, little bug,” Harry said as he helped Willow to sit on her own chair. Once she let go of him and agreed to sit down, Harry gasped loudly.

 

“What happened to you?” He asked in slight shock.

 

“Nothing,” Willow mumbled with her shoulders slumped and a slight pout on her lips, as she reached up to the top of her head and ruffled the hair there.    
  


“Where did your hair go then?” Harry exclaimed, looking to Louis for an explanation. 

 

Louis was just about to ask Willow if she wanted to tell what happened, when the girl seemed to remember that she was, in fact, angry with her dad. Her eyes turned steely, in the same cute disgruntled kitten kind of way that Harry’s did, and she glared around the table. 

 

“I lost my scissor privileges,” she complained loudly to Harry. 

 

Jonathan and Rose looked like they were having a hard time not laughing about the situation. 

 

“Oh. And why is that then?” Harry asked seriously. 

 

“Because Dad is a meanie,” she argued. “He even yelled at me,” she added in a dramatic whisper. 

 

“I can see why that would make you sad and angry, sweetie, but did he really just yell at you and take away privileges without reason?” Harry asked her patiently.

 

Willow stayed quiet for a while and then huffed in defeat. “No. Dad said it’s dangerous to cut your bangs unsupervised when you’re five.”

 

Rose and Jonathan was quietly howling with laughter. Because that tiny troublemaker had cut a large part of her hair almost down to the scalp. A few longer tufts stood up here and there, but mostly it wasn’t even half an inch long.  

 

“So, Dad yelled because he was afraid you’d hurt yourself?” Harry asked and Willow nodded solemnly. “And you took the scissors without asking? I think the loss of privileges is just the right consequence,” he added as the five year old mumbled her agreement. 

 

“Why did you cut your hair?” Harry wondered as he combed his hand through the short messy tufts. 

 

“I’ve never cut my hair before, Daddy. Naturally, I  _ had _ to do it!” She explained with clarity, like the answer was as obvious as that. 

 

Jonathan was choking on his laughter and Rose was squealing. “Oh my god, my little weirdo! Come give me a hug.” 

 

Only then did Willow seem to take note of the her siblings. She slid down her chair and rushed around the table to cuddle. 

 

Louis loved every millisecond of it. 

  
  


* * *

 

Louis had known Harry for ten years. He’d loved Harry for ten years. Harry’s presence in his life made everything better. These past ten years had been filled with love and support, even though it hadn’t always been painless.

 

With Louis’ 46th birthday just around the corner, his thoughts were often filled with comparisons. The instances where the difference between life with Harry and life without Harry were clear as day. 

 

Eight years ago, when they moved into their house and decided to have another baby, things had been beautiful and easy for the first couple of months. Harry had been so, so happy with the prospect of having a baby. The kids were excited too and not even the limited space in their small house could dampen their happiness. (Louis and Harry were both of the opinion that there really wasn’t any reason at all for a child under the age of three to have their own room. A small cot put in the master bedroom would be preferable - mainly to establish a sense of safety and security in both the child and the parents. They didn’t need any more space.)

 

But then Harry’s excitement started to dissipate little by little. Even though he still spoke words of happiness and excitement, and made plans just the same, the emotion wasn’t present in his eyes anymore. At first Harry wasn’t able to speak about it when Louis tried to understand what was wrong. That was so unlike Harry and it had worried Louis to no end. 

 

What had dampened Harry’s joy and happiness, was that he wanted - needed, really - to be married to Louis before they started the journey of bringing a baby into this world. 

 

Louis’ issue, even though he longed to give Harry anything and everything he wanted, had been his previous experiences and the belief that a marriage could only ever end a relationship of his.

 

It had taken them almost a year to work through all the issues that had surfaced with the plans of having another child. Louis had been in awe of the entire process of lovingly, and with mutual respect, working through real problems in a relationship. It was nothing like his previous experiences - nothing with Harry ever was. 

 

In the end, Louis had overcome most of his fear of marriage. Harry had promised that they could do everything the way Louis wanted or needed, as long as they got legally married. That was vastly different from the first two times, where most things were corrupted by ultimatums or the so called compromise meant that Louis’ needs and wishes were completely disregarded. 

 

Louis didn’t want to make a big deal out of anything - no invitations, no reception, no nothing. If he could avoid even telling people, he’d be happy. Harry was just fine with that, as long as he got to wear a ring and his sister would be present at the ceremony. Of course, the kids would be there too. 

 

So that was that. A year and a bit after deciding to have a baby, they took the first real step towards that and got married. 

 

In the early morning on the 28th of March, a small sunrise ceremony was held in Harry’s childhood forest, right next to his beloved tree. The ceremony was officiated by a Pagan High Priestess, who incorporated a mix of Pagan and Wiccan traditions and rituals into the wedding. 

 

It was beautiful, having the ceremony in the woods, as the sunlight filtered in through the trees and wood anemones covered the ground soothingly. It really felt like they were sharing their love with nature and a lot of Mother Earth’s creatures were witnessing the event.

 

Harry got his ring and he got the legal connection to Louis - who decided against a ring and opted for a tattoo to signify his marital status. 

 

Then came the planning for a child - for real, with actual appointments and meetings with surrogates. And again, Louis had found himself in the midst of something he’d never experienced before - having a supportive husband with him every step of the way. 

 

The realisation of how incredibly lonely Louis had been when his eldest children were on their way had saddened him for a long time. Long before Harry ever came along, Louis had noticed how different other expecting parents seemed from when his first babies were arriving. 

 

When he got to experience the entire process of getting a child with Harry it dawned on him that he really had been all alone through the pregnancies and infancies of his first two children. Yeah, Jonathan and Rose’s father had come along to all the appointments they were invited to, and he had vetoed a few of Louis’ name options, but other than that, Louis had been alone in everything.    
  


But he wasn’t lonely anymore. He had the love of his life and he had three wonderful children. Life was amazing and Louis was incredibly thankful. 

 

* * *

 

“Willow Pillow, where are you going?” Jonathan’s teasing voice was heard from outside. “What are you doing?” 

 

Louis sat at his old desk by the window and watched as his eldest and youngest were playing in the garden, chasing each other. He was supposed to be finishing his work so nothing would disturb their family time over the holidays. But he was constantly getting distracted by the happiness of having his entire family gathered. 

 

Louis mostly worked from home still, doing his freelance stuff and writing this and that. Sometimes he held seminars about surviving abuse and healing from it. Sometimes he helped his husband with different things at the practice. 

 

“Here baby, thought you could need this.” Harry’s low, soothing rumble came from behind as he placed a cup of tea on the desk and proceeded to give Louis a kiss. 

 

“Mmm, thank you,“ Louis mumbled against his lips. “Do you know what they’re doing?” He asked and nodded towards the garden

 

“Last I heard Jon didn’t believe that Willow had a new secret friend visiting her every day.” Harry informed. “And by the looks of it, she’s going to show him.”

 

They watched the scene in their backyard unfold. Willow was stubbornly dragging a small mattress across the yard, towards the edge where her tree was. 

 

Just like Harry, she was very fond of everything nature and everything weird. The kid liked to meditate, among other things. So they kept a few small mattresses on the back porch, for the purpose of meditating on, when it was too cold to sit on the ground or a simple blanket wouldn’t suffice. 

 

She also had her own tree and a very vivid imagination. Ever since she could move around on her own, she’s been drawn to the apple tree in the corner of their backyard. 

 

Harry was very pleased. This really was his daughter. Didn’t even have to be taught that everything had a consciousness, she knew that all on her own.

 

“Is she summoning the cat or the fairies?” Louis wondered, as Willow sat cross legged on the mattress. Her eyes were closed and Jonathan’s expression was one of amusement as he sat down across from her, on a mattress of his own.

 

Willow claimed there were all sorts of creatures living in their garden. Of course there were the birds, the squirrels, the rabbits and the occasional deer. But there were also the flower people, the pretty princesses and the really tall ones. 

 

Louis had no idea what all that really meant, perhaps she saw fairies and nature creatures. Perhaps she had imaginary friends. Perhaps she was just magic herself, just like her daddy was. 

 

“Don’t know. Should we go out and find out?” 

 

With hot tea cups in their hands, Louis and Harry quietly stepped outside on the porch, in hopes to hear what their kids were up to. They found Rose reclining in one of the chairs, with a thick text book in her lap and a delightful smile on her lips, as she too was thoroughly entertained by the youngest weirdo of the Tomlinson family.

 

“Shhh. You have to  _ breathe _ , Jon-Jon.” Willow scolded him. 

 

“Okay, I’m breathing.” Jonathan chuckled. 

 

They all sat in silence for a few minutes before some rustling was heard from the bushes that created the border between their backyard and the fields. 

 

“Oh, you’re here!” Willow whisper-shouted excitedly. “Come, kitty, come to me.” 

 

Soon enough, a small and fluffy black cat appeared and cautiously made it’s way to Willows lap. This cat had shown up a few weeks back and Willow had been happily feeding it since then. 

 

“Maybe it’s her familiar,” Rose piped up from her chair. 

 

“She’s not a witch, Rosie.” Louis objected.

 

“She could be,” Rose mused. “She’s got a lot of weird shit going on.”

 

“She can be anything she wants to be, anything.” Harry said with a large, dimpled smile and so much pride and adoration in his voice, as he watched his daughter play with the cat.

 

Rose was right, though. Willow was very special. Harry encouraged each and every bit of her peculiarity and explained everything thoroughly to Louis when he got worried. 

 

Harry’s thought that Willow’s gifts and characteristics were partly due to the fact that all children were open to energies and other dimensions. Before they were re-programmed by society and told that there were no such things as flower people, spirits or aliens, they could very well be able to communicate with entities that adults wasn’t able to sense. 

 

Harry also explained that Willow most likely was a child of the new age, perhaps a Crystal Child. Meaning that she belonged to one of the waves of old souls incarnating on earth to anchor love. These souls had a deeper connection to everything and wasn’t as easily programmed into the harmful ways of humanity. 

 

For instance, Willow was a vegetarian. She had always refused to eat any kind of meat. When she was a baby she would throw up if she was fed meat. When she could explain herself she simply stated that it’s very wrong to eat animals.

 

Another one of her special traits was her way of knowing impossible things. Like details about Harry’s mother or that Zayn and Niall’s baby was going to be a boy, even though the ultrasound suggested a girl.

 

Yeah, Niall and Zayn were a thing nowadays. After about six years of friendship Niall had decided that he really was in love with Zayn and did want a romantic relationship with him. Zayn, who basically had very deep feelings for Niall from the start, had been thrilled that his patience finally paid off. Things moved forward very fast after that. They moved in together almost immediately and now they had a six month old baby boy - just like Willow had predicted.   

 

Sometimes when Louis was feeling down or on the rare occasion that his PTSD still got triggered, Willow could almost always sense it beforehand and tried to offer comfort in her own way. 

 

* * *

 

A week never lasted very long. This time was no exception, as christmas came and went at lightning speed. Louis’ blissful week of having his family close had to come to an end and it was sort of killing him. Why couldn’t they all live here all the time? 

 

They were enjoying the impressive brunch that Harry cooked together and Louis couldn’t help tearing up every two minutes. 

 

Jonathan laughed sympathetically at Louis’ sniffling, while Rose and Harry gave him small hugs throughout the brunch. 

 

“It’s not like we’re going off to war, Dad.” Jonathan tried to be helpful. “I live a short car ride away and you can come visit me every day if you want to.”

 

“Yeah,” Rose agreed. “And you’ll see me in a few days, I’ll be at the New Years party.” 

 

That’s right. Their traditional new Years party was held in London this year, at Zayn and Niall’s, and everyone but Jonathan would be there. 

 

“You’re right. I’ll see you both at least twice more before this year is over.” Louis agreed. “But then I’ll start planning for raising a few more houses in the backyard, so you all can live here permanently.” He added with finality. 

 

Both of the adult kids groaned, Harry laughed and Willow cheered at the prospect. See, the five year old understood the happiness Louis had felt the past week. He gratefully kissed his daughter’s forehead.

 

What they really should have done, instead of buying this tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere, was to buy an estate of some sort. Where the main house was surrounded by smaller houses that everyone of his kids could live in forever. That’s what they should have done. 

 

After brunch Jonathan and Rose had to leave. They had already packed their things in Jonathan’s car. He was dropping her off at the train station before heading home to his flat in the city.

 

As they all stood outside saying their goodbyes, Louis abundantly distributed hugs and kisses to all his children, even the one that was staying. He told them how much he loved them and how proud he was of the beautiful individuals they were. 

 

He reminded them of calling or texting if something happened. Or if something didn’t happen. He’d come in a heartbeat if they needed. As if they hadn’t heard that all their lives. As if they couldn’t take care of themselves. Louis was so proud that they could, but this was just some of the remaining brokenness that couldn’t be healed. 

 

Once upon a time Louis had been shredded to pieces so small, that not even the deepest of loves could fully mend what had been broken. The traces of damage that still remained, Louis often wore as a combined weapon and shield, a place from where he could draw incredible strength. But that same weapon held the potential to be just as lethal to himself as it could be towards the villains of his life.

 

So he had to be careful and sensible and remember to always communicate his fears and worries when they arose.

 

“I don’t really like this adult business these kids has started.” Louis muttered dejectedly into Harry’s shoulder when the kids drove off. 

 

“I know, baby,” Harry responded, bringing his arm around Louis and keeping him close. “Let’s go inside.”

 

“It’s okay, Dad.” Willow declared with clarity as the three of them started walking towards the front door. “You don’t have to be sad anymore. We love you. We’ll take care of you.”

 

“Thank you sweetheart, I know you will. I love you so much.”

 

Yeah. Louis was happy. So happy and grateful for his beautiful family, even if it hurt sometimes.  

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave your comments and kudos. :) 
> 
> Until next time, take care of yourself. <3


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